, hello, precious daughter, tanyusha, writing this letter to you, your own mother buyanova, natalya ovdeevnan’t believe in your grief. so i happened to live to see a bright day, come, daughter, at least for a day, you i ask, because now my grandfather and i can’t even think about anything, only about you, we are already completely exhausted from this melancholy, but we live well, we have a cow in its fifth year, 15 chickens, and potatoes, and received the collective farm, so don’t doubt about it and write back quickly, when you arrive, your godfather bows to you, and we don’t have any other relatives, but then we remain your own mother, buyanova natalya avdievna and grandfather avdiya egorovich, it turns out how many i have more relatives. hello, hello, will you have some milk? take it, yes, now. nowadays our women at the market sell you two mugs of milk for 3 rubles. yes, well, as you are my old customers, so i’m still paying you fifty dollars, goodbye, have i already lived in some city? excuse me, can you tell me how i can get to the collective farm of the paris commune? and we have four b