From the Honorable Minister of Delicate Instruments


    My dear friend,
    Believe me that I was sincerely afflicted when I learned of the loss you have suffered: a steam powered urinal is not easily replaced. Yours, which had among other peculiarities, the ability to sing the Marseillaise when in use, was certainly worthy of the esteem you bestowed upon it. So, it is easy for me to understand the despair that your sister felt when it became evident that the urinal was definitely lost. Nevertheless, from that to suicide is quite a step! And, although I know that many fond memories were associated with its possession, I cannot but sondem such a fatal resolve. But this censure does not prevent me from profoundly deploring her sad end. A suicide is always, for those close to the deceased, a tragic and agonising event; but when it is accomplished by the means of jam, one cannot be less than terrified. Never would I have believed that your sister could resolve to die embedded in a vat of jam! And yet, all those unlucky enough to befriend her knew of her most morbid attraction to jam, even in jars. Do you remember how she could not contain herself when she saw it with desserts, how she had to caress it before even serving herself? Numerous incidents of this nature should have aroused our suspicions; but, blind that we were, we never understood their profound significance. Nonetheless, I shiver at the thought of how her last moments must have been.

    Please believe me that I share your pain and approve of your descision to banish jam from your life. This is a healthy reaction and I can only commend it from the bottom of my heart. It demonstrates both your determination, and your courage in overcoming pain as well as your instinct for self-preservation. I am truly glad, that without jam, you do not, indeed, risk letting yourself be compelled to follow the example of your sister.

    --Benjamin Péret
    From Surrealist Games.