Free Everything Is Illuminated by Jonathan Safran Foer Page A

“Chana,” and Chana for “Hannah.”)
    The Well-Regarded Rabbi counted the ballots that evening. It was a tie; every name got one vote: Lutsk Minor, UPRIGHTLAND, New Promise, Fault Line, Joshua, Lock-and-Key . . . Figuring that the fiasco had gone on long enough, he decided, reasoning that this is what God would do in such a situation, to pick a slip of paper randomly from the box and name the shtetl whatever it should say.
    He nodded as he read what had become familiar script. YANKEL HAS WON AGAIN, he said. YANKEL HAS NAMED US TRACHIMBROD.
    23 September 1997
    Dear Jonathan,
    It made me a tickled-pink person to receive your letter, and to know that you are reinstated at university for your conclusive year. As for me, I still have two years of studies among the remnants. I do not know what I will perform after that. Many of the things you informed me in July are still momentous to me, like what you uttered about searching for dreams, and how if you have a good and meaningful dream you are oblongated to search for it.
    This may be cinchier for you, I must say.
    I did not yearn to mention this, but I will. Soon I will possess enough currency to purchase a plane voucher to America. Father does not know this. He thinks I disseminate everything I possess at famous discotheques, but as proxy for I often go to the beach and roost for many hours, so I do not have to disseminate currency. When I roost at the beach I think about how lucky you are.
    It was Little Igor’s fourteen birthday yesterday. He made his arm broken the day yore, because he fell again, this time from a fence he was hiking on, if you can believe it. We all tried very inflexibly to make him a happy person, and Mother prepared a premium cake that had many ceilings, and we even had a small festival. Grandfather was present, of course. He inquired how you are, and I told him that you would be reverting to university in September, which is now. I did not inform him about how the guard stole Augustine’s box, because I knew that he would feel ashamed, and it made him happy to hear of you, and he is never happy. He wanted for me to inquire if it would be a possible thing for you to post another reproduction of the photograph of Augustine. He said that he would present you currency for any expenses. I am very distressed about him, as I informed you in the last letter.
    His health is being defeated. He does not possess the energy to get spleened often, and is usually in silence. In truth, I would favor it if he yelled at me, and even if he punched me.
    Father purchased a new bicycle for Little Igor for his birthday, which is a superior present, because I know Father does not possess enough currency for presents such as bicycles. “The poor Clumsy One,” he said, extending to put his hand on Little Igor’s shoulder, “he should be happy on his birthday.” I have girdled a picture of the bicycle in the envelope. Tell me if it is awesome.
    Please, be truthful. I will not be angry if you tell me that it is not awesome.
    I resolved not to go anywhere famous last night. Instead I roosted on the beach. But I was not in my normal solitude, because I took the photograph of Augustine with me. I must confess to you that I examine it very recurrently, and persevere to think about what you said about falling in love with her.
    She is beautiful. You are correct.
    Enough of my miniature talking. I am making you a very boring person. I will now speak about the business of the story. I perceived that you were not as appeased by the second division. I eat another slice for this. But your corrections were so easy. Thank you for informing me that it is “shit a brick,”
    and “shitting bricks,” and also “to come in handy.” It is very useful for me to know the correct idioms. It is necessary. I know that you asked me not to alter the mistakes because they sound humorous, and humorous is the only truthful way to tell a sad story, but I think I will alter them. Please do not