Yes. I can eat lunch with you. You go and take the elevator. But send the elevator back up. You know how boys get when they have a gun. They carry it. You know I can’t use a phone. I presume you have reference to a map I have in my room with some x’s on it. I have no automobile. I have no conveyance. I have to walk from where I am going most of the time. I got these bruises in the theatre. They haven’t bothered me since. The sack was in the car, beside me, on my lap, as it always is. I didn’t get it crushed. I don’t recall the shapes; it may have been a small sack, or a large sack. You don’t always find one that just fits your sandwich. I have my t-shirt and other men are dressed differently. I am not malcontent. I worked in a factory. I have a wife and some children. You know, I can’t use a phone. The only package I brought to work was my lunch. This t-shirt is unfair. Well it was a girl, and I wanted a boy, but you know how that goes. The smaller picture was reduced from the larger one, made by some person unknown to me. In New York they have a well organised, or a better organisation. I hear they burn for murder. Well they say it takes just a second to die. Yes, I can eat lunch with you. I love you. Be sure to buy shoes for June.