The 17th of May 1937 – Soledad, California

(found by the rabbit)

Dear George,

This is the way it’s got to be George. This is just the way it’s going to end up.

We’ve got to pack up and go. You know that as well as I do. So we’ll get moving again, move on to the next job again, pack up and go again.

Whatever’s here is going to have to be left behind, George. It’ll be left behind, but it probably won’t be forgotten. I hope it will, George, but it probably won’t be forgotten.

You know that everything has gone wrong, George, when even the voices inside of your own head finally get enough courage to start whispering behind your back.

That’s when it’s time.

Maybe this job’s over, George. Maybe it’s over, and it’s done with, and it’s just time to pack it up and go. Maybe that’s the way it’s going to have to be.

We’re going to go on out of here. We’re going to get away. We’re going to live off the fat of the land.

So that’s it.

From,

Leonard

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