E-Mail for one Mikhail A. Bakunin.
To: mbakunin@euphemewebmail.com
From: anarcothingtwo@exiled.net
Subject: SURPRISE!
Dorogoy starshiy brat,
I’m writing to you in English because I can’t find a fucking Russian keyboard anywhere, and I don’t have time to go around character mapping everything. I’m sorry, I know you’ll be disappointed, but that’s just the way it is. Sorry, again.
Anyway! I’m alive! Haha! I told you I’d be fine! Uncle Sasha was a great host, but eventually I had to go. I know you’ve been worried. When you moved out of home I couldn’t get any address on you, and… well, let’s just say our younger sisters are useless when it comes to finding things mama and papa hide.
But! I found you. Don’t ask me how I found you-because it was uncanny, but I found you! The incredible coincidences of life have led me back to somewhere near my loving brother and I am not moving on without seeing you.
Okay, okay. I know you hate it when I’m all mischievous, Mishenka, so I’ll just tell you (hee!): I’m in Boston! BOS-TON! YES! I don’t know how to get where you are, but I was with some friends- long story- and we went to a concert, and I heard people talking… you know, just talking… about how "Bak" had cut his hair, and how "Mikha" wasn’t around much anymore, and why didn’t fucking Bakunin show up and do something crazy… and I couldn’t help myself (obviously!) and showed them your picture to see if it was you…
... IMAGINE MY SURPRISE TO HEAR YOU CUT YOUR MOHAWK! I’m so proud of you, it was so hideous (no, really, I loved it, but you know-spikey hair is for glam, brat moy; you’re better than a trend).
Anyway, yes, Boston. I want to see you- pass me directions as to how to get where you are.
Ya tyebya lyublyu.
Lyuba.
From: anarcothingtwo@exiled.net
Subject: SURPRISE!
Dorogoy starshiy brat,
I’m writing to you in English because I can’t find a fucking Russian keyboard anywhere, and I don’t have time to go around character mapping everything. I’m sorry, I know you’ll be disappointed, but that’s just the way it is. Sorry, again.
Anyway! I’m alive! Haha! I told you I’d be fine! Uncle Sasha was a great host, but eventually I had to go. I know you’ve been worried. When you moved out of home I couldn’t get any address on you, and… well, let’s just say our younger sisters are useless when it comes to finding things mama and papa hide.
But! I found you. Don’t ask me how I found you-because it was uncanny, but I found you! The incredible coincidences of life have led me back to somewhere near my loving brother and I am not moving on without seeing you.
Okay, okay. I know you hate it when I’m all mischievous, Mishenka, so I’ll just tell you (hee!): I’m in Boston! BOS-TON! YES! I don’t know how to get where you are, but I was with some friends- long story- and we went to a concert, and I heard people talking… you know, just talking… about how "Bak" had cut his hair, and how "Mikha" wasn’t around much anymore, and why didn’t fucking Bakunin show up and do something crazy… and I couldn’t help myself (obviously!) and showed them your picture to see if it was you…
... IMAGINE MY SURPRISE TO HEAR YOU CUT YOUR MOHAWK! I’m so proud of you, it was so hideous (no, really, I loved it, but you know-spikey hair is for glam, brat moy; you’re better than a trend).
Anyway, yes, Boston. I want to see you- pass me directions as to how to get where you are.
Ya tyebya lyublyu.
Lyuba.