Leo! Yesterday I was at S’s. He offered to help with selling the house. To some Pole. Regarding another subject, he says I should write you down as a candidate for some economic society. See more
It’s a good income. In the meantime, he advises you to rest for a month. As for the candidature, I will research and write to you in detail. Kisses.
P.S Dodin’s uncle has a bearded servant that looks like Baba Yaga. Very sweet. Pass it on to Doda. Soon I will send food and sheets.
If you are alive, if I am fated to see you again, listen: yesterday, on the road towards Kharkov, I went past the southern border. There were 9000 dead. I can’t tell you about tonight because it has not ended. It’s a grey morning now. I’m in the corridor. You have to understand! I'm on the move and writing to you and I don't know now... but there are words here that I cannot write. See more
Perhaps you can stay at home? If everyone were to stay, you’d go alone. Because you’re perfect. Because you can’t, in order to kill others. If God makes this miracle happen, and leaves you alive, I’ll follow after you like a dog.
The news is uncertain, I don’t know what to believe. I’m reading about the Kremlin, Tverskaya, Arbat, Metropol, Vosnesenskaya square, and about the mountains of corpses. In the socialist revolutionary papers “Kurskaya Zhizn” from yesterday, I read that disarmament has begun. Others (from today) talk about the fight. I don’t have the will to write now, but I’ve seen how I enter my home thousands of times. Will we be able to enter the city? It’s about 2PM now. In Moscow it’ll be 2AM. And if I go home, there won’t be a soul there will there? Where do I search for you? Maybe we don’t have a home? I have a constant feeling that this is an awful dream.
With every hour things are getting more difficult. We are on our feet almost constantly. You hardly have a chance to come back after some errand or operation and grab a bite to eat, than the command comes again:
“Fall in!” See more
We are sent off to the Moscow River then to Prechistenka, to Nikitskaya, to Teatralnaya, and so it goes on. Our ears are ringing from the constant shooting (shots are far more deafening in the city than out in the field.)
It’s impossible to make any headway without artillery. We would have to storm building after building. The Bolsheviks have begun using artillery. At first, the shells were only falling on Arbat Square and the boulevards, but soon they were exploding all over our district. They are firing on the Kremlin, too. It breaks your heart to see shrapnel exploding over the Kremlin.
Dear Serezhenka, you aren’t writing to me at all. I was so looking forward to the mailman’s arrival yesterday – and nothing. Only a letter for Asya from Kamkova. Asya is still on the estate. She was nursing Zelinskii’s son back to health after his appendicitis; he was lying in bed ill at her residence for three weeks, and now his parents idolise her as if she were a God. I didn’t go – at first they wanted everyone to go together, but I don’t like staying at other people’s; old people have an oppressive effect on me, I feel guilty for all my rings and bracelets. I am keeping watch over Andryusha. I am completely indifferent towards him, as he is to me and – in general – to everyone. With him the role of a mother is reduced to the role of a slave: he returns not even the slightest feeling – stone.