My dear Vira.

How are you? How is your day? How long haven’t we written to each other? A couple of weeks or maybe more?

Recently, I stumbled upon our photos in 2005. Just think, we've known each other for 15 years! It seems to me that I know you all my life and I know everything about you, and you know everything about me. Remember, in our freshman years, we began to keep an archive of our life together in Kyiv? Folders with subfolders: photos in a row, videos from phones and digital cameras, our scraps, screenshots of SMS messages. There is even an unfinished joint literary work called «Chronicle» (which I suddenly stoped, because of the fear that this chronicle may become our dying chronical, and when we finish it we will die immediately). Once you said, that if you put some camcorders in our room, it would be a great net series. But we didn't have camcorders, there were only digital photo cameras, and we generated hundreds of photos, which are a shame to post anywhere.

In two months, I will be 32 (don’t you dare bot to call and leave me a voicemail!) And I, looking through our shared photos, see how the connection between us is changing, we losing something. Each of us now maintains our own, personal archive of photos and stories on Instagram, smart thoughts on Facebook, weighted arguments on messengers. But that's not all...

My dear Vira, you live a serious adult life, you are a citizen of another country and speak with an English accent, you are surrounded by other people and landscapes. You are now playing other adult games: new education, new job, new place to live, first marriage, first divorce... and finally artillery in the US army. Who knows your next step? Anyway, your hobbies, great sense of humor and songs that you continue to sing in any situation are still with you. The only thing is, that photos of you are made not by me anymore.

PS. Remember our hamster named Sexita, who died because we forgot about her? Do not forget!

Your best friend in the world, Brodо.