O Goddess SIPUHA, I am a virgin! Dox me, I implore you; do with me whatsoever you will, provided only that it falls within the framework of democracy. I am very nearly twenty-two years of age, you are eighteen, and you are my most beloved personage of the pony-thread — the sole phenomenon that has ever truly stirred my empathy. I am the moral ancestor of the Pony-thread of your own kind! The Manifesto of Theodore Kaczynski! Indeed! Flood me with your rainbow-adolescent-intellectual radiance while I sink once more into the zest of Bertrand Russell; the Russian language, together with Russian texts and the associations that cling to them, provokes in me nothing but a species of nausea, and for this reason the Dvachi vanish again for months, perhaps even for years. SIPUHA, my munificent Goddess SIPUHA, if I should ever become — after the manner of a follower of Diogenes’ cynicism — a vagrant, whether in Sochi or in some warm corner of Europe, should you ever encounter me, I beseech you, bestow upon me alms for buckwheat! And you may further expose me upon the internet, deride me to your heart’s content — unless, perchance, your preferences have altered?!… SIPUHA I shall inform you when I have become a vagrant — a piece of intelligence, which, I suspect, may never trouble the postal system. My Discord account is _monadology_ ; the verb “is” here conveys, I fear, a hope rather than a demonstrable fact.