Miraculous sea, fantastic park. There is no better place, really. Silence and simplicity.
Not long ago, I visited the little town of Nalchik. It is an extremely beautiful place surrounded by mountains and steppes. Both the Kabardian steppe and the mountains nearby are populated by Kabardians (a Caucasian tribe—Muslims). See more
When these Kabardians got word of my arrival, they gathered together and organized a picnic for me—they gave speeches, roasted an entire sheep over the fire, danced, sang, and did some trick riding on horseback. This all happened on the mountains, which open on one side onto a view of the vast steppe and on the other toward the snowcaps of the Caucasus. It is a truly magnificent and remarkably beautiful spectacle.
I need to work. Life is becoming unbelievably expensive, and I think it will only get worse and worse as time goes on. I am afraid that in Moscow, I’ll only get cold and hungry, but people have been telling me that a little money can still fix anything there as always.
Ilyich has settled in Helsingfors. He sent me a letter written in invisible ink asking me to come, told me his address and even drew a map showing me how to get there without asking anyone. But when I heated up the letter over a lamp, the corner of the map burnt off. The Yemelianovs have got me a passport too – the passport of an old working woman from Sestroretsk. See more
I tied a scarf around my head and went to Razliv to see the Yemelianovs. They took me across the border; for people living near the border, a passport is enough to cross to the other side. Some officer inspected the passports. Once I was over the border, I had to travel about five versts to a small station, Olilla, and board a troop train there. Everything went off without a hitch. The only problem was the corner of the map which had been burnt-off. I wandered about the streets for a long time until I found the right street. Ilyich was delighted. It was clear that he is terribly frustrated to have to stay undercover at a time when it is crucial for him to be in the centre of events, preparing for battle. I told him everything I knew.
Socialism is not right for the Russian people and the Russian state; beggars can’t be choosers. There is some grain of truth in socialism, but at this historical hour I will stand for any party and any class that is built on patriotism and nationalism, that will save the motherland from destruction. See more
Only those parties and those classes can truly be called progressive. Antipatriotic, antinationalist, antigovernmental socialism is deeply reactionary, and it will have no place in the future of Free Russia.
Two wardresses at the door. Both are entirely weighed down with packages.
“What a delivery you’ve got today! It’s like an entire wholesale shop. You’ve got everything! White bread, sausages, canned goods, butter, eggs, honey…” See more
And there was a note: “Greetings from the sailors of the Baltic Navy to comrade Kollontai.”
That’s a miraculous delivery if I’ve ever seen one! So the Tsentrobalt hasn’t been defeated? The sailors’ spirits haven’t been broken? So the opposition hasn’t won? Then everything else will fall into place!
I was so overjoyed (as was my American cellmate) that I felt like bursting into leaps and skips around the cell.