Dearest Jules,

If you’re reading this, then congratulations, you successfully decrypted my message:

Q: Why did the chicken cross the road?

A: To die alone and in the rain.

Feel free to look around, to dissect, to judge…there are three of us here.

Myself, Sterling Fassbinder and Fitzcarraldo.

(Three’s the magic number)

And you thought I was writing a novel, you poor pretentious fuck.


aurore