Letter from Ivan Rado (Received November 13th, 2003 with a return address for a P.O. box in Snowflake, Arizona. When the Commission contacted the post office they verified that it was registered to an Ivan Rado. With the help of other United States government agencies we conducted a search for Mr. Rado. The P.O. box was registered to an address in Heber, Arizona, a town nearby. The address did not actually exist, it was the address for a lot filled with odd metal objects and tall dead grass. After a thorough investigation of the area and no leads the search was called off. What follows on this page is yet another unverified letter from Ivan Rado.)

I have had over 517,000 sad dreams since I was born. Every glass that has ever hidden its tears behind the sweat of a humid day has visited me in my sleep. All the reflections of myself from storefront windows and dungy bar mirrors has come to sit beside my bed. They slowly pet my hair and look on at me in pity as I suffer the world. There is a hilly meadow nearby that I wanted to raze, and a canyon that I wanted to fill. Now I just want to combine the two, let the meadow settle gently into the canyon, softening them both.

I try to sleep during the day, because the light in my dreams is so harsh. Vapid conversations and two sides of the coin, turned to animals prowling and the sensibilities of the moon. Who ever road in a yellow coach in the 1800s? Where is the television they ask after awhile, I'm not sure if this is sarcastic or not, but they seem to be smiling.

The rest of this letter was illegible.