Videos are below...Keep scrolling down.
Tips on Writing the UC Personal Statement/college application letter:
WWW.Californiacolleges.edu
What is the personal statement?
The personal statement is more than just a mandatory part of your UC application; it's your one chance to explain to college admissions readers why you are a good fit for their school. This is where you become more than just another name — it's where you become an individual, and where you can share your personality, your goals, your experiences, and where you can explain any opportunities or obstacles that have affected your academic record.
It's one element considered in UC's comprehensive review of your application. You will not be admitted based on only one part of your application, so you need to give equal attention to all sections.
It's an opportunity to provide information that gives readers context for your accomplishments. The personal statement allows you to add information that you couldn't work into the other parts of the application.
Think of it this way — the personal statement:
• adds clarity, depth and meaning to information collected in other parts of your college application.
• enables you to make the best possible case for admission.
A Message from UC Faculty:
• While it is acceptable to receive feedback or helpful suggestions, applicants' personal statements should reflect their own ideas and be written by them alone.
Never let anyone "rewrite" your personal statement. Others' feedback can help you hone your ideas, but the writing should be your own.
Where do I start?
A personal statement starts with reading — reading your completed UC application, that is. Before you write your personal statement, complete the application. When you're finished, ask yourself questions about it. Starting by completing the UC application instead of jumping right into the essays helps you identify key patterns in your academic record and extracurricular choices and anticipate the inferences that readers will make about your academic profile. Use the application to help you:
• Think critically about the application's content. Your life story is so familiar to you, it's hard to have perspective on it without analyzing it.
• See your personal and academic experiences as worthy of reflection and analysis.
• Connect the issues raised by the application to the responses provided in the personal statement.
• Find the questions that your readers might ask. This will help you fulfill the reader/writer pact. You as the writer have a responsibility to try to answer your readers' questions.
The Instructions and Prompts:
Two questions allow you to explore different areas of your life, your education, your goals and your aspirations:
Your environment — family, school, community — and how it has shaped who you are; and the talents, contributions, personal qualities or characteristics that make you who you are as a student, a scholar and an engaged citizen.
You will write two essays in response to these prompts. The length of each response is up to you, but neither one should be less than 250 words and the combination of both responses should not exceed 1,000 words.
Below are this year's prompts. When you finish reading through a prompt, ask yourself some of the questions provided below it to start your brainstorming process. Remember that you will be writing two essays.
Prompt #1
• [Freshman Applicants] Describe the world you come from — for example, your family, community or school and tell us how has your world shaped your dreams and aspirations.
• [Transfer Applicants] What is your intended major? Discuss how your interest in the subject developed and describe any experience you have had in the field — such as volunteer work, internships and employment, participation in student organizations and activities — and what you have gained from your involvement.
Ask Yourself:
• What one word best describes my family, my community, or my school?
• What opportunities have been available to me in my community or at my school?
• What is the major issue confronting my family, school or community and what has been my role in addressing it?
• How have I changed as a result of addressing this major issue, and what impact has that change had on my dreams and aspirations?
• Why did I choose to do what I did to address this issue?
Prompt #2
Tell us about a personal quality, talent, accomplishment, contribution or experience that is important to you. What about this quality or accomplishment makes you proud and how does it relate to the person you are?
Ask Yourself:
• What one word describes me best and captures my most important personal quality? Why is this the appropriate word to describe me?
• What talent, accomplishment, contribution or experience has best allowed me to express my most important personal quality?
Exercise:
Look at each prompt, and write down a quick answer to each of the "Ask Yourself" questions. When you are finished, consider your answers. What was the most compelling information you came up with in your answers?
Which questions led you to offer important information that was not covered in your application?
Writing for College:
The UC personal statement is a preview to the kind of writing you'll be doing in college and on college placement exams.
• Unknown Audience: You will be writing for a community of strangers.
• Writer-Determined Topic: You will pick the topic for your response.
• Dig Deeper: Analysis and reflection are key.
Ask Questions Before Writing:
The Levels of Questions strategy described below can help you ask the kinds of questions to ask about your completed UC application that will give you insight into the how to approach your personal statements.
Level One Questions:
(L1)
Answers are evident in the application. (What does the application say?)
Answers to L1 questions provide detail in your personal statements.
Level Two Questions
(L2)
Answers are open to interpretation using the information provided the application. (What does it mean?)
Answers to L2 questions are topic sentences for your personal statement paragraphs.
Level Three Questions
(L3)
Answers address larger issues not evident in the application but supported by the application. (Why does it matter?)
Answers to L3 questions are thesis statements for your personal statements.
Step One Activity: Ask Questions
As you read through your UC application, write down questions about yourself that apply to the information you've included. Try to find a variety of questions of all levels. For example:
• What sorts of classes do I get the best grades in? (Level 1)
• Why am I interested in science? (Level 2)
• How can I use my interest in science to make a contribution to our understanding of the health care needs of the elderly?
(Level 3)
Consider whether you asked deep enough questions. Are there interesting things about your record that you missed because they are too familiar to you?
Look back at the prompts. How are you going to choose how to answer each prompt?
Step Two Activity: Organize
Look at the questions you came up with and sort them according to which prompt they best fit. Here's an example of how you can organize your questions:
• Prompt #1 Examples:
o Why is developing my fluency in my family's native language important to me? [Home]
o How did my student government experiences shape my perspective on the political process and how I want to participate in shaping that process in the future? [School]
o How has my experience working in a nursing contributed to my understanding of and desire to work on health care issues? [Community]
• Prompt #2 Examples:
o How did my focus on martial arts impact my grades? [Talent]
o What did I learn about myself as a scholar by participating in a small learning community at school?
[Experience]
o How did my military service contribute to my educational choices? [Accomplishment]
o Why is personal leadership so important to me? [Quality]
o What impact has the service club I started at my school had on student morale and achievement?
[Contribution]
Now that you've organized your thoughts a little better, you can start thinking about how you will answer each prompt. Consider the following points:
• What topic will each response focus on? Because these are relatively short essays, you should focus on one topic per prompt.
• Will the topic you have chosen for each prompt give you the opportunity to make the most persuasive argument? Does it answer the most pressing questions related to this prompt?
• You may be wondering about the length of your responses. If you have a similar number of questions from your application for each prompt, consider making both responses equal length. If you have more questions for one prompt than the other, think about responding to the prompt with the most questions associated with it in a longer essay. The prompt with the most questions associated with it is likely to be the one that you have the most to write about.
Step Three Activity: Decide on topics for your responses
Now it's time to decide on your focus for each prompt. Since you don't have many words to spare, you'll want only one topic for each prompt. Write a descriptive sentence for each prompt that details what you'll be writing about.
Consider whether you have chosen the most persuasive and compelling topic for each prompt. Then make sure you have chosen the topic with the most questions associated with it for your extended response.
Writing Strategies
Before you begin writing, check out the tips and strategies below for each of the responses. Admissions readers will be looking for the following when reading your short responses:
• Write responses that get right to the point. These are short essays, so there is little room for wandering.
Don't worry about being abrupt — you need to get your information out there.
• Use specific, concrete examples and language. Avoid generalities like "being on the track team was fun" and go right for the details. Make sure your response directly addresses the prompt, avoid a collection of facts or examples, and expand on — don't simply repeat — information contained in your application.
• Adhere to word restrictions. Keep to the word count as closely as you can — a few words over or under the limit is okay, but be careful.
• Ensure that the responses complete the application. The personal statement answers are an extension of your application. They should give new information, not repeat things you've already put in your application.
Tips for the longer responses:
If you choose to write a longer response to one or both prompts (500 or more words), you will have a short essay of about six paragraphs. When reading your extended responses, readers will be looking for:
• organization and clarity provided by a persuasive thesis, analytical topic sentences, and well chosen examples.
Return to your Levels of Questions exercise to help guide you. Remember - the information you have decided to include to your thesis (Level Three questions), topic sentences (Level Two questions), and examples or details (Level One questions).
• a response that supports - by clarifying and provide context for - the information in the application.
Your longer response is where you can make a persuasive argument for yourself. Make sure that it directly supports the information on your application.
5
The admissions readers will expect your longer response to contain a thesis that you will argue in the body of the essay. Here is a table that breaks down the different parts of a thesis, followed by some example theses for each prompt.
Structure of Thesis Statements
Concession
Activity: Write a thesis statement
You should now have chosen a question you will answer as your thesis statement. Using the samples above as a
guide, write a thesis statement for your topic. Reread your thesis statement and ask yourself whether you followed the structure above.
Your Writing Process:
Look at the process below. Do you follow all these steps when you write? If not, try to follow them as you're working on your personal statement.
1. Brainstorm using levels of questions.
2. Write a first draft.
3. Get feedback. Give readers at least a week to respond.
4. Revise for organization, clarity and meaning.
5. Proofread your close-to-final draft to ensure there are no errors.
The UC Personal Statement Tutorial:
George Saunders’s Advice to Graduates By JOEL LOVELL
It’s long past graduation season, but we recently learned that George Saunders delivered the convocation speech at Syracuse University for the class of 2013, and George was kind enough to send it our way and allow us to reprint it here. The speech touches on some of the moments in his life and larger themes (in his life and work) that George spoke about in the profile we ran back in January — the need for kindness and all the things working against our actually achieving it, the risk in focusing too much on “success,” the trouble with swimming in a river full of monkey feces.
Down through the ages, a traditional form has evolved for this type of speech, which is: Some old fart, his best years behind him, who, over the course of his life, has made a series of dreadful mistakes (that would be me), gives heartfelt advice to a group of shining, energetic young people, with all of their best years ahead of them (that would be you).
And I intend to respect that tradition.
Now, one useful thing you can do with an old person, in addition to borrowing money from them, or asking them to do one of their old-time “dances,” so you can watch, while laughing, is ask: “Looking back, what do you regret?” And they’ll tell you. Sometimes, as you know, they’ll tell you even if you haven’t asked. Sometimes, even when you’ve specifically requested they not tell you, they’ll tell you.
So: What do I regret? Being poor from time to time? Not really. Working terrible jobs, like “knuckle-puller in a slaughterhouse?” (And don’t even ASK what that entails.) No. I don’t regret that. Skinny-dipping in a river in Sumatra, a little buzzed, and looking up and seeing like 300 monkeys sitting on a pipeline, pooping down into the river, the river in which I was swimming, with my mouth open, naked? And getting deathly ill afterwards, and staying sick for the next seven months? Not so much. Do I regret the occasional humiliation? Like once, playing hockey in front of a big crowd, including this girl I really liked, I somehow managed, while falling and emitting this weird whooping noise, to score on my own goalie, while also sending my stick flying into the crowd, nearly hitting that girl? No. I don’t even regret that.
But here’s something I do regret:
In seventh grade, this new kid joined our class. In the interest of confidentiality, her Convocation Speech name will be “ELLEN.” ELLEN was small, shy. She wore these blue cat’s-eye glasses that, at the time, only old ladies wore. When nervous, which was pretty much always, she had a habit of taking a strand of hair into her mouth and chewing on it.
So she came to our school and our neighborhood, and was mostly ignored, occasionally teased (“Your hair taste good?” – that sort of thing). I could see this hurt her. I still remember the way she’d look after such an insult: eyes cast down, a little gut-kicked, as if, having just been reminded of her place in things, she was trying, as much as possible, to disappear. After awhile she’d drift away, hair-strand still in her mouth. At home, I imagined, after school, her mother would say, you know: “How was your day, sweetie?” and she’d say, “Oh, fine.” And her mother would say, “Making any friends?” and she’d go, “Sure, lots.”
Sometimes I’d see her hanging around alone in her front yard, as if afraid to leave it.
And then – they moved. That was it. No tragedy, no big final hazing.
One day she was there, next day she wasn’t.
End of story.
Now, why do I regret that? Why, forty-two years later, am I still thinking about it? Relative to most of the other kids, I was actually pretty nice to her. I never said an unkind word to her. In fact, I sometimes even (mildly) defended her.
But still. It bothers me.
So here’s something I know to be true, although it’s a little corny, and I don’t quite know what to do with it:
What I regret most in my life are failures of kindness.
Those moments when another human being was there, in front of me, suffering, and I responded…sensibly. Reservedly. Mildly.
Or, to look at it from the other end of the telescope: Who, in your life, do you remember most fondly, with the most undeniable feelings of warmth?
Those who were kindest to you, I bet.
It’s a little facile, maybe, and certainly hard to implement, but I’d say, as a goal in life, you could do worse than: Try to be kinder.
Now, the million-dollar question: What’s our problem? Why aren’t we kinder?
Here’s what I think:
Each of us is born with a series of built-in confusions that are probably somehow Darwinian. These are: (1) we’re central to the universe (that is, our personal story is the main and most interesting story, the only story, really); (2) we’re separate from the universe (there’s US and then, out there, all that other junk – dogs and swing-sets, and the State of Nebraska and low-hanging clouds and, you know, other people), and (3) we’re permanent (death is real, o.k., sure – for you, but not for me).
Now, we don’t really believe these things – intellectually we know better – but we believe them viscerally, and live by them, and they cause us to prioritize our own needs over the needs of others, even though what we really want, in our hearts, is to be less selfish, more aware of what’s actually happening in the present moment, more open, and more loving.
So, the second million-dollar question: How might we DO this? How might we become more loving, more open, less selfish, more present, less delusional, etc., etc?
Well, yes, good question.
Unfortunately, I only have three minutes left.
So let me just say this. There are ways. You already know that because, in your life, there have been High Kindness periods and Low Kindness periods, and you know what inclined you toward the former and away from the latter. Education is good; immersing ourselves in a work of art: good; prayer is good; meditation’s good; a frank talk with a dear friend; establishing ourselves in some kind of spiritual tradition – recognizing that there have been countless really smart people before us who have asked these same questions and left behind answers for us.
Because kindness, it turns out, is hard – it starts out all rainbows and puppy dogs, and expands to include…well, everything.
One thing in our favor: some of this “becoming kinder” happens naturally, with age. It might be a simple matter of attrition: as we get older, we come to see how useless it is to be selfish – how illogical, really. We come to love other people and are thereby counter-instructed in our own centrality. We get our butts kicked by real life, and people come to our defense, and help us, and we learn that we’re not separate, and don’t want to be. We see people near and dear to us dropping away, and are gradually convinced that maybe we too will drop away (someday, a long time from now). Most people, as they age, become less selfish and more loving. I think this is true. The great Syracuse poet, Hayden Carruth, said, in a poem written near the end of his life, that he was “mostly Love, now.”
And so, a prediction, and my heartfelt wish for you: as you get older, your self will diminish and you will grow in love. YOU will gradually be replaced by LOVE. If you have kids, that will be a huge moment in your process of self-diminishment. You really won’t care what happens to YOU, as long as they benefit. That’s one reason your parents are so proud and happy today. One of their fondest dreams has come true: you have accomplished something difficult and tangible that has enlarged you as a person and will make your life better, from here on in, forever.
Congratulations, by the way.
When young, we’re anxious – understandably – to find out if we’ve got what it takes. Can we succeed? Can we build a viable life for ourselves? But you – in particular you, of this generation – may have noticed a certain cyclical quality to ambition. You do well in high-school, in hopes of getting into a good college, so you can do well in the good college, in the hopes of getting a good job, so you can do well in the good job so you can….
And this is actually O.K. If we’re going to become kinder, that process has to include taking ourselves seriously – as doers, as accomplishers, as dreamers. We have to do that, to be our best selves.
Still, accomplishment is unreliable. “Succeeding,” whatever that might mean to you, is hard, and the need to do so constantly renews itself (success is like a mountain that keeps growing ahead of you as you hike it), and there’s the very real danger that “succeeding” will take up your whole life, while the big questions go untended.
So, quick, end-of-speech advice: Since, according to me, your life is going to be a gradual process of becoming kinder and more loving: Hurry up. Speed it along. Start right now. There’s a confusion in each of us, a sickness, really: selfishness. But there’s also a cure. So be a good and proactive and even somewhat desperate patient on your own behalf – seek out the most efficacious anti-selfishness medicines, energetically, for the rest of your life.
Do all the other things, the ambitious things – travel, get rich, get famous, innovate, lead, fall in love, make and lose fortunes, swim naked in wild jungle rivers (after first having it tested for monkey poop) – but as you do, to the extent that you can, err in the direction of kindness. Do those things that incline you toward the big questions, and avoid the things that would reduce you and make you trivial. That luminous part of you that exists beyond personality – your soul, if you will – is as bright and shining as any that has ever been. Bright as Shakespeare’s, bright as Gandhi’s, bright as Mother Theresa’s. Clear away everything that keeps you separate from this secret luminous place. Believe it exists, come to know it better, nurture it, share its fruits tirelessly.
And someday, in 80 years, when you’re 100, and I’m 134, and we’re both so kind and loving we’re nearly unbearable, drop me a line, let me know how your life has been. I hope you will say: It has been so wonderful.
Congratulations, Class of 2013.
I wish you great happiness, all the luck in the world, and a beautiful summer.
It’s long past graduation season, but we recently learned that George Saunders delivered the convocation speech at Syracuse University for the class of 2013, and George was kind enough to send it our way and allow us to reprint it here. The speech touches on some of the moments in his life and larger themes (in his life and work) that George spoke about in the profile we ran back in January — the need for kindness and all the things working against our actually achieving it, the risk in focusing too much on “success,” the trouble with swimming in a river full of monkey feces.
Down through the ages, a traditional form has evolved for this type of speech, which is: Some old fart, his best years behind him, who, over the course of his life, has made a series of dreadful mistakes (that would be me), gives heartfelt advice to a group of shining, energetic young people, with all of their best years ahead of them (that would be you).
And I intend to respect that tradition.
Now, one useful thing you can do with an old person, in addition to borrowing money from them, or asking them to do one of their old-time “dances,” so you can watch, while laughing, is ask: “Looking back, what do you regret?” And they’ll tell you. Sometimes, as you know, they’ll tell you even if you haven’t asked. Sometimes, even when you’ve specifically requested they not tell you, they’ll tell you.
So: What do I regret? Being poor from time to time? Not really. Working terrible jobs, like “knuckle-puller in a slaughterhouse?” (And don’t even ASK what that entails.) No. I don’t regret that. Skinny-dipping in a river in Sumatra, a little buzzed, and looking up and seeing like 300 monkeys sitting on a pipeline, pooping down into the river, the river in which I was swimming, with my mouth open, naked? And getting deathly ill afterwards, and staying sick for the next seven months? Not so much. Do I regret the occasional humiliation? Like once, playing hockey in front of a big crowd, including this girl I really liked, I somehow managed, while falling and emitting this weird whooping noise, to score on my own goalie, while also sending my stick flying into the crowd, nearly hitting that girl? No. I don’t even regret that.
But here’s something I do regret:
In seventh grade, this new kid joined our class. In the interest of confidentiality, her Convocation Speech name will be “ELLEN.” ELLEN was small, shy. She wore these blue cat’s-eye glasses that, at the time, only old ladies wore. When nervous, which was pretty much always, she had a habit of taking a strand of hair into her mouth and chewing on it.
So she came to our school and our neighborhood, and was mostly ignored, occasionally teased (“Your hair taste good?” – that sort of thing). I could see this hurt her. I still remember the way she’d look after such an insult: eyes cast down, a little gut-kicked, as if, having just been reminded of her place in things, she was trying, as much as possible, to disappear. After awhile she’d drift away, hair-strand still in her mouth. At home, I imagined, after school, her mother would say, you know: “How was your day, sweetie?” and she’d say, “Oh, fine.” And her mother would say, “Making any friends?” and she’d go, “Sure, lots.”
Sometimes I’d see her hanging around alone in her front yard, as if afraid to leave it.
And then – they moved. That was it. No tragedy, no big final hazing.
One day she was there, next day she wasn’t.
End of story.
Now, why do I regret that? Why, forty-two years later, am I still thinking about it? Relative to most of the other kids, I was actually pretty nice to her. I never said an unkind word to her. In fact, I sometimes even (mildly) defended her.
But still. It bothers me.
So here’s something I know to be true, although it’s a little corny, and I don’t quite know what to do with it:
What I regret most in my life are failures of kindness.
Those moments when another human being was there, in front of me, suffering, and I responded…sensibly. Reservedly. Mildly.
Or, to look at it from the other end of the telescope: Who, in your life, do you remember most fondly, with the most undeniable feelings of warmth?
Those who were kindest to you, I bet.
It’s a little facile, maybe, and certainly hard to implement, but I’d say, as a goal in life, you could do worse than: Try to be kinder.
Now, the million-dollar question: What’s our problem? Why aren’t we kinder?
Here’s what I think:
Each of us is born with a series of built-in confusions that are probably somehow Darwinian. These are: (1) we’re central to the universe (that is, our personal story is the main and most interesting story, the only story, really); (2) we’re separate from the universe (there’s US and then, out there, all that other junk – dogs and swing-sets, and the State of Nebraska and low-hanging clouds and, you know, other people), and (3) we’re permanent (death is real, o.k., sure – for you, but not for me).
Now, we don’t really believe these things – intellectually we know better – but we believe them viscerally, and live by them, and they cause us to prioritize our own needs over the needs of others, even though what we really want, in our hearts, is to be less selfish, more aware of what’s actually happening in the present moment, more open, and more loving.
So, the second million-dollar question: How might we DO this? How might we become more loving, more open, less selfish, more present, less delusional, etc., etc?
Well, yes, good question.
Unfortunately, I only have three minutes left.
So let me just say this. There are ways. You already know that because, in your life, there have been High Kindness periods and Low Kindness periods, and you know what inclined you toward the former and away from the latter. Education is good; immersing ourselves in a work of art: good; prayer is good; meditation’s good; a frank talk with a dear friend; establishing ourselves in some kind of spiritual tradition – recognizing that there have been countless really smart people before us who have asked these same questions and left behind answers for us.
Because kindness, it turns out, is hard – it starts out all rainbows and puppy dogs, and expands to include…well, everything.
One thing in our favor: some of this “becoming kinder” happens naturally, with age. It might be a simple matter of attrition: as we get older, we come to see how useless it is to be selfish – how illogical, really. We come to love other people and are thereby counter-instructed in our own centrality. We get our butts kicked by real life, and people come to our defense, and help us, and we learn that we’re not separate, and don’t want to be. We see people near and dear to us dropping away, and are gradually convinced that maybe we too will drop away (someday, a long time from now). Most people, as they age, become less selfish and more loving. I think this is true. The great Syracuse poet, Hayden Carruth, said, in a poem written near the end of his life, that he was “mostly Love, now.”
And so, a prediction, and my heartfelt wish for you: as you get older, your self will diminish and you will grow in love. YOU will gradually be replaced by LOVE. If you have kids, that will be a huge moment in your process of self-diminishment. You really won’t care what happens to YOU, as long as they benefit. That’s one reason your parents are so proud and happy today. One of their fondest dreams has come true: you have accomplished something difficult and tangible that has enlarged you as a person and will make your life better, from here on in, forever.
Congratulations, by the way.
When young, we’re anxious – understandably – to find out if we’ve got what it takes. Can we succeed? Can we build a viable life for ourselves? But you – in particular you, of this generation – may have noticed a certain cyclical quality to ambition. You do well in high-school, in hopes of getting into a good college, so you can do well in the good college, in the hopes of getting a good job, so you can do well in the good job so you can….
And this is actually O.K. If we’re going to become kinder, that process has to include taking ourselves seriously – as doers, as accomplishers, as dreamers. We have to do that, to be our best selves.
Still, accomplishment is unreliable. “Succeeding,” whatever that might mean to you, is hard, and the need to do so constantly renews itself (success is like a mountain that keeps growing ahead of you as you hike it), and there’s the very real danger that “succeeding” will take up your whole life, while the big questions go untended.
So, quick, end-of-speech advice: Since, according to me, your life is going to be a gradual process of becoming kinder and more loving: Hurry up. Speed it along. Start right now. There’s a confusion in each of us, a sickness, really: selfishness. But there’s also a cure. So be a good and proactive and even somewhat desperate patient on your own behalf – seek out the most efficacious anti-selfishness medicines, energetically, for the rest of your life.
Do all the other things, the ambitious things – travel, get rich, get famous, innovate, lead, fall in love, make and lose fortunes, swim naked in wild jungle rivers (after first having it tested for monkey poop) – but as you do, to the extent that you can, err in the direction of kindness. Do those things that incline you toward the big questions, and avoid the things that would reduce you and make you trivial. That luminous part of you that exists beyond personality – your soul, if you will – is as bright and shining as any that has ever been. Bright as Shakespeare’s, bright as Gandhi’s, bright as Mother Theresa’s. Clear away everything that keeps you separate from this secret luminous place. Believe it exists, come to know it better, nurture it, share its fruits tirelessly.
And someday, in 80 years, when you’re 100, and I’m 134, and we’re both so kind and loving we’re nearly unbearable, drop me a line, let me know how your life has been. I hope you will say: It has been so wonderful.
Congratulations, Class of 2013.
I wish you great happiness, all the luck in the world, and a beautiful summer.
Click to set custom HTML