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).
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.
Miraculous sea, fantastic park. There is no better place, really. Silence and simplicity.
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
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
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