We sat at the dining room table and she let me look through the family letters and paper detritus she'd been sorting though; in the collection were letters sent long ago from Russia, the ink faded to a lovely lavender shade, the hand a perfectly executed copperplate style of (we assume) a Cyrillic script. She suggested the letters had been written out by a professional, perhaps for someone not literate in Russian.

Other letters were written in Yiddish, which is written in the Hebrew alphabet –– they bore the autographic personality of the senders in a way the perfectly formed and regular Russian letters could not.

But I couldn't help falling in love with those purple letters.
There were
just
so
BEAUTIFUL.