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“Writing my first letter to you, I think of how much I’ve suffered on your account. I’ll try to keep my complaints to a minimum, though. I’ve been to hell and back for you, but I suppose it wasn’t all bad. You’ve also opened my mind to new ideas, given me new experiences and helped me many times over.

I’ve spent more time with you than anyone else. You’ve been closer to me than anyone else. I think that’ll remain true for the rest of my life. It goes without saying that you know me better than anyone, too-maybe better than I know myself. That makes it all the more ironic that you’re also my archnemesis.

You don’t mean to undermine my body like this, do you? You depend on my health as much as I do, after all. Or is this all on purpose too? What do you think about this photobook? There are so many things I want to discuss with you. I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve wished you’d never been born. I hate you even now. At the same time, I can’t really express this well but, you’re crucial to me. I feel something like an affection toward you. I wish we could speak.

Reply if you can, it doesn’t have to be right away. Take a few decades, or wait until after I die if you must. A reply would be nice, if you could bring yourself to write it.

Well, bye for now.” — from the artist’s afterword