Before leaving, my dad had to say that they were going to England for the whole winter and might go further to Europe in the spring, but this is not accurate. He bequeathed me to learn English and promised to write letters. I would receive a new letter once a month, almost always a photocopy of a local newspaper clipping with a letter on the back. I remember reading articles for the whole class with an English teacher, and this was my first reason to be proud.

I spent hours looking at these booklets and rereading the letters ten times. It was a completely new world for me; it seemed like my dad flew to Mars and traveled back in time at the same time. All I dreamed of was to grow up soon and go on my journey. It seemed he would never come back, and I might meet him one day along the way. Fortunately, my grandmother kept all the letters, and today Pasha was able to scan them and send them to me.

‍