The Last Supper Club

To the one at the end of the table,

Welcome to the Storm Post Office. This letter is written on ivory pearlescent paper, its engraved title as thin and sharp as a blade in candlelight. Along the margins stand dark irises; there is a wine goblet, a few slices of citrus, and at the far end of a long table a shadow the candles have forgotten. It is a dinner in 1929, and the last course is slow to arrive.

We keep one line of Rilke folded in the envelope: "For the beautiful is only the first edge of the terrible, which we can still barely bear." — Rainer Maria Rilke, Duino Elegies (1923)

The last seat is the best one: farthest from the lamp, nearest to the quiet. There is no need to hurry the toast or the reply. When you are ready to speak, the rain will wet the pen for you.

A chair kept for you,

Storm Post Office

1929 · The Eve of the Storm

P.S. The goblet is empty on purpose. It is waiting for whatever you wish to say.