Letter to the Bank #21

Dear Banker (That is a little more personal),
You wouldn’t believe the number of letters, the piles of passionate scrawl I’ve come across of late—in my garage, in the basement, on official letterhead and restaurant napkins—that all address financial anxiety. I’ll bet if you multiply this by one of those huge numbers you’ve been bandying about, you’ll get close to the extent of people’s debt grief. It will not be a number in the usual sense, the numeric sense. It will look more like a mysterious blip on your screen, a strange sign the populace is hoping against hope you’ll finally interpret. The numbers are ambient but the feelings are very real and probably worth addressing. If you could help alleviate the distress out there, leaven the pain, you might be surprised at how much comes back to you based on your emotional investment.
If it is okay with you I shall begin sharing this rediscovered gold shortly but first you and I need to come to a better understanding. When people come to you ripping the shirts off their chests and so baring their souls I’d like for you to agree, in writing, to drop the stony face, the inscrutable smile, the professional mien and share in their grief. Let the healing begin!

Yours sincerely,



K. Citizen

DGR described the picture in the following terms: “The incident is just before Hector's last battle. Cassandra has warned him in vain by her prophecies, and is now throwing herself against a pillar, and rending her clothes in despair, because he will not be detained longer. He is rushing down the steps and trying to make himself heard across the noise, as he shouts an order to an officer in charge of the soldiers who are going round the ramparts on their way to battle. One of his captains is beckoning to him to make haste. Behind him is Andromache with her child, and a nurse who is holding the cradle. Helen is arming Paris in a leisurely way on a sofa; we may presume from her expression that Cassandra has not spared her in her denunciations. Paris is patting her on the back to soothe her, much amused. Priam and Hecuba are behind, the latter stopping her ears in horror. One brother is imploring Cassandra to desist from her fear-inspiring cries. The ramparts are lined with engines for casting stones on the besiegers.” (quoted in Marillier, DGR: An Illustrated Memorial , 108-9.).
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