Walked the length of the Student Union, out its other side, down steps and through the main library's doors. Sitting at a long wooden table, two heavy cardboard boxes were delivered on a cart nearby. The Archive Light brown labeled folders leaned against each other: letters from friends and colleagues; pages of forgotten writing; manuscripts since drafted into other genres; notes scribbled when feverish and alone in a cold farmhouse, northern Japan, not expecting to survive the night.