Dear Wigleaf,

I recently bought myself a pitcher plant. Every time I pass it, I think "You aren't meant to be here! You should be growing under a jungle canopy." Unlike my other plants, it feels powerfully like company. It's those little pitchers. They have personality. I'm so happy to see fruit flies floating in the pitchers; it feels like something is being accomplished in my house. I spray the plant every day with distilled water, so it thinks it's in a humid environment. I expect it to die.

I don't know how to do anything anymore. I can't write more than a few sentences at a time. I keep coming back here to write a little more to you.

I should write a story about a pitcher plant.

It's sitting in a window looking out at the snow coming down, and it doesn't know what it is. "We don't have that where I come from," it says.

"It's like humidity, but solid," I tell it.

Take care,

Richard Mirabella