Dear mama and papa,
Hey its your son I hope that you haven’t totally forgot about me.
Well I kinda figured t would tell you about my knew life in the us. Well I am living in New York and I work is a “factory” but its more like a prison but it makes it possible for me to scrape along. Am I getting enough money to you? Because I really can send more if you need it. You guys wouldn’t belief how many people are here everywhere you go there are more people than you have ever seen. You have the Italian part of town, you have the Irish, you have the Germans, the Russians, and Chinese. There is never a dull moment in this new land and everything that people learn at home just kinda gets forgotten because everything is done differently. The men go on dates which are taking a woman out to dinner and movies. The woman can chose who they marry. Work is very hard and we receive harsh punishments for very small infractions. But I don’t mind I have gotten fairly good at blocking out all the yelling and screaming. We have outdoor markets with people pushing carts around and if you’re not careful they will run into you. How are you guys doing I hope that you are doing better now that I’m gone.
Your son,
Michael
6 comments:
You could work on punctuation and sentence fluency. I like how you explain your situation and your ideas are good. Life was hard in the US, you did a great job of telling your family.
well it really didn't make scents you had random letters in your thing but all in all it was really good
U should explain more when you say its kinda like a prison. U did great explaining all the diffrent kind of races here in the u.s. alot of my family lives in mexico to and my fammily that lives here always sends money to them over there
i think you did good. but there is a couple of mistakes in your spelling and periods. but other then that its good.
That was pretty good. I could tell that you were trying to be serious along with some humor. It made me laugh at parts. You did great for the most part, but you do need to break it down into paragraphs.
I can kind of relate to you're poem. I also have some family members in a different country. Maybe one day I would write a letter to them like you did to yours. But in the end of you're poem, did your family not love you and were they glad that you were gone?
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