My dear,

Don’t ever ever give me a clean shirt. I’ll immediately start questioning everything. I’m maniac like that.

Why is that shirt so clean? Is it because it’s that new? And if it’s that new, why are people giving it to me? Why do they think I deserve a completely new clean shirt? Why don’t they keep it for themselves? What are they gaining by giving me a clean shirt and not keeping it for themselves? …Why?! Why’d they have to give me a too clean shirt?!

Seriously, don’t give me a clean shirt, I have enough thoughts running around reckless in my head as is. I like stained shirts. The more stained the better.

Doubts are like stains on a shirt. I like shirts with stains, because when I’m given a shirt that’s too clean, one that’s completely white, I immediately start having doubts.

It’s a completely horrible paradox that’s frankly driving me insane.

Falsely yours,
Antonio Tabucchi