Hermes Trismegistus

Dear Grandfather,

Last night I saw in your eyes, the reflection of a pale blue sky as the wind rustled through the dry leaves of a chestnut tree.  As we dug deeper in search of serpents, I drew on collective memories and created in my head significant differences between the imaginary and the wet soft clay on the tip of our shovels.  This dichotomy between the tangent and the ephemeral allows me not only to make use of pretentious concepts, but appeals to the masses as well (under the pretext of post-modern recoding of symbolism).  To be quite honest, I find it hard to believe that simply taking a memory out of context and infusing it with alchemical allegories allows one to project on your persona my own ideals.  I realize your interests are different than mine, but I hope you can accept the fact that in my dreams, out of your seven heads, three are crowned in gold.

Your associate and apprentice,
Victor Dima