The faint writing at the bottom of this photo says: “Wish I could have killed him.” I wonder who was the person who had this murderous thought. Is it one of these men, or the photographer? Did the writer want to kill the men or perhaps the pack horse? I guess we will never know.
I found this letter — actually a poem — in an envelope, in 1967 when I was 15, on the floor the terminal when I was changing planes in Dallas on my way home to my family in Virginia. It had been stepped on many times as is evident by the shoe prints still showing on the envelope. At the time, I remember feeling sad when I read the letter and sorry it had would not get to whom it was intended. I must have gotten home and tucked it away, then went on with my teenage life forgetting about it.
Many years, several moves, and lots of miles later (now in California), I recently rediscovered it going through old papers. Re-reading it now, I wonder if the recipient may have, in fact, read it and carelessly? on purpose? lost the letter himself. I also find it interesting that the writer spelled her last name differently on the envelope from how it was signed on the letter.
FOUND by Chris behind a CVS Pharmacy in Houston, Texas
I found someone’s shopping list today. Or is it a to-do list? Clearly, the Pills are the most important thing. It’s even separated from everything else. Next in order of importance is Butts, then Beer, then meat. It’s like a life poem.
FOUND by Doppelganger in an oilfield town in Texas
I found this letter in the grass outside of my sketchy apartment complex. I love the way the writer does such a perfect segue between her gushy pink love letter and the 16-year-old prostitute daughter of a meth dealer.