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.
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.
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
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