Imagine you and I are identical twins. We can look however you choose.
We were uncommonly close until some family, economic, or geopolitical upheaval separated us at age 12. We haven’t seen or heard from each other since. Now we’re 40. (I’m imagining too.) You’ve missed me, wondered how I’m doing and what my life is like, and longed to share all sorts of your life’s moments.
You’ve searched for me online over the years without success, and small wonder. Our surname is Jones and our given names Robert and Michael (or Mary and Elizabeth, as you please).
Today you find a letter from me in your mailbox, four typed pages with my handwritten signature at the end, plus a small photo. (We still look alike.) You read hungrily of more adventures than you’ve had and the natural beauties of the place where I now live. I mention childhood memories you don’t recall, but we all forget different things.
You’re delighted to reconnect. Before you reach the end, you restart at the beginning, you’re enjoying this so much.
Finally, you read my last lines: “I hate writing, so I had ChatGPT compose this. It’s not all true, but I wanted to send a long letter, now that I’ve found you.”
How do you feel now?