From Issue 2: For Irina

Peter Zhuang Dearest Irina, I arrived in your fair city on Thanksgiving, just short of five years after I first met Alyssa in the hallowed halls of Butler Library. Russia, of course doesn’t celebrate the traditions of North American pilgrims. And no one was celebrating my anniversary with Alyssa, especially not me. I was welcomed at Pulkovo International airport by crisp, chilly air and a porter named Ivan. He fit every stereotype of a Russian bear that came to mind. Aside from being exceedingly courteous and filled with curiosity about America. Shockingly, no one travels out of the States on…

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