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a b c d e f g h i j k l m n o p q r s t u v w x y z

Tuesday, 22 April 2008

An Open Letter to Sir Richard Branson

We seek virgin. Virgin for Virgin. Our hymen is still intact, our innocent instincts still unscathed. We seek one virgin who will dare defile our homely grey alphabet, one that will penetrate it to its well-kept core, one who will take from it all it is worth.

Why you, Sir Richard Branson, are the perfect partner for our dear little virgin is as plain as any of the other adventures you have been bound to incur. The ‘V’ entices, I’ve heard her whispering your name at nights now for some time; she writhes with imagined passion, sometimes changing her shape to an ‘R’ or a ‘B.’ Fantasies built on a legacy, she’s always dreamed about sleeping with a knight.

There is more to this match than hushed meetings in the night; more than the heart pounding first-go. This is nothing platonic; we desire this to be stellar. It is you, Sir Richard Branson, with that permanent smile, only you who may have the daring enough to take our virgin for a proper ride. If it were only music or only sub-orbital space flights, only your own island, only one airline, one world-record broken, one social stunt, one of your multitude of endeavors. . .but all? It is your bulging Virgin experience and the personality to pull it off.

In return, we offer merely the pleasure which comes with the coming into such fertile, yet uncharted grounds. There are of course the worthy causes, Free the Internet! and the like, that are supported simultaneously. But I have reason to suppose, that for you, Sir Richard Branson, the joy is—as it is in living—in the simple act, that of doing. Life is the fulfilling of potential, life is the seizing of rare moments, life is the pushing and then being pleased with what you’ve pushed for.

There ‘V’ goes again. What incessant moaning! She just had her destiny read and was told that it was for you, Sir Richard Branson, that she was created. I can do nothing to soothe her. The other grey letters are going mad. Please, take her off our hands. We insist. Virgin our ‘V’!

a b c d e f g h i j k l m n o p q r s t u v w x y z

Amber Ruth Paulen

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