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Non-fiction

Project 1917 is a series of events that took place a hundred years ago as described by those involved. It is composed only of diaries, letters, memoirs, newspapers and other documents

Petrograd has started to look more and more like a village - not even a village, but a dirty camp of nomadic savages. The feebly gray ragged men, in their greatcoats with their ruffles, have become more prominent, wreaking havoc everywhere. Nevsky prospect and the main streets have become a disorderly sloppy market.


The houses were covered with torn adverts, people ate and slept on the panels, scum was lying around, they traded anything they had. Soldiers walked armed down the streets, wearing whatever they had, some clad only in their underwear.

✍    Also today

Letter to the Foreign Office:

"Kerensky 's work among the troops at the front has throughout been hampered by the anti-war pro- paganda of the agitators, whom the Bolsheviks are constantly sending there to dissuade the men from joining in the offensive. The political atmosphere is such that he does not venture to appeal to the troops to fight for victory, but for the speedy conclusion of peace. For peace is the universal desideratum. See more

The stage is serious. There is only black and white, there is no humor, it is neither kitchen nor parlour: it is a place more serious and holy than church. It is not a sofa to be reclined on, neither is it a fence on which to hang our nervous energy as we would our linen. The theatre must disappear, like an animal long-extinct.

News from the front are not good. The offensive that has started out so successfuly is turning into a failure for the Russians.

In Galich there was also something new. These were beautiful German fortifications. Dams were dug, reinforced with a double sheathing of thick logs and dug under the very base of the high mountain of Galich. Huge cellars for artillery shells were also built, and around all this, bowling alleys, showers and gazebos of white, made out of birch tree bark. See more

The specter of “counterrevolution” is being disgracefully misused. The manner in which this word is being applied in the left-socialist press, at public meetings, and at private debates, should be called nothing less than moral blackmail. It is the easiest way to silence an opponent and deprive him of his voice. “Counterrevolutionary” is now any opinion which its pronouncer dislikes.

Our soldiers are in the city. They are not looting, though they are helping themselves to barrels of wine. Yesterday they showed great valour in storming Kalush, but today they drink like serfs. There are not too many of them, but the streets reek of spirit, shards of glass from shattered bottles litter the pavements, and the soldiers, dead-drunk and asleep with their rifles still in their hands, lie next to the rubbish.