Thomas Harris | The Silence of the Lambs | 1988

Dear Dr. Lecter,

Thank you for your letter from prison; I can understand your need to establish contact with the outside world, but for the life of me I can’t figure out who you are. Your name does ring the proverbial bell… perhaps I saw you on Jepardy or– heavens!– Wheel of Fortune?

Living out here in the sticks as I am, far from any electronic devices such as have been foisted upon the human race since the day Franklin flew his kite, I have no way to determine who you might be; and the nearest library is a thousand miles away.

But to address the main question in your brief letter: yes, there are accommodations available in this remote area. There are plenty of abandoned farmsteads scattered about. In fact, I myself moved into one a few years ago– it’s amazing how a little contact paper and a few yards of ball fringe manage to dress up a place!

If you like hunting, there is plenty of wild game in the nearby forests. I happen to have a large stock of instruments and tools necessary to the craft and you would be free to borrow anything you like.

Good luck with your incarceration– remember, every day that dawns is a day closer to your release! One foot in front of the other, as I always say.

Your new neighbor,
Jim Crescitelli