Greta had a nice weekend.
She ran home from school Friday afternoon, changed into casual clothes, ate a piece of toast, then walked alone down to the park and swung on the swing for half an hour or so until her friend Peter showed up.
I only know all this about how Greta spent her Friday afternoon-well, about how Greta spends most her days-because I’m Greta’s old friend. Yeah, you could say that we’re old friends. Well, technically I suppose we’ve never actually met. Technically I’ve never met anyone. I guess it’s complicated. I’ll try to explain:
I was brought up in an isolated community in the middle of what today you’d call the Soviet Union. It was a town of 250 people and we all appreciated our traditions very much. I’ll skip the details because I can’t stay too long, but basically here’s what happened: our town died off quickly when blight struck our crops and there was no longer any way of sustaining ourselves. But our traditions and our religion lived.
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