Larisa Kharakhinova
Heart-to-heart letters: to MrRight from CCCP

Preface

   Syberia, summer`89. I finished studying in University and was going home. One day one guy knocked my room in hostel. He was of leaders in our young communists organization. Quite pretty guy, spick-and-span.

   – Hi, girls! Is there Larisa here?
   – Here I am!
   – I heard you`re going home, to Ulan-Ude?
   – Yes, in days.
   – Have you bought a ticket?
   – Not for a while yet.
   – I have a favour to ask of you
   – What about?
   – The fact is that – three germans came here in cultural exchange, from Leipzig. They want to the Lake Baikal. Could you accompany them to Ulan-Ude? But there – you must find how to get them to The Lake. We bear all expenses.
   – Oh, yes!
   – But here is one nuance – they are too capricious. They don`t like our dish, our hostel, mosquitos and, generally, our town in their eyes – solid wilderness. Not so civilized like cultured Europe. They disgust Syberia. They turn up noses at all and don`t want to associate (i.e.drink) with us.
   – They disgust Syberia!?! And where have your germans dug in? Address, please! I`ll «acquaint their faces with table». We`ll see who is «cultured» here. I`ll compel to love every gnat in our wilderness.
   – Please, more gently! We also, are going to Leipzig in exchange. How we`ll be met there depends on that how much these guys love this trip on the Lake.
   – Well, I`ll try not to sully image of Motherland, I`ll put up a good show, being dragon, but devilishly charming one.

   I saluted jokingly and made magnificent gesture type of knick-knack by hand, then turned round on the heals and went to create this `devilish charm` on my face for conquering germans.
   Guests from Leipzig stopped at our student`s hostel. I knocked at the door and heard: “Herein!”
   My sciolism in German was from childhood. Movies, movies, movies – of Second World War. And so, every «ich-bin»-phrase begot slightly bellicose mood. And maybe because of this ABC-reflex or something otherwise, some merry boldness suddenly has come on me, – I decided to play like in movies.
   «Proud «Uberalles»? Well, I`ll remind you of The Spring-45! All these knights will fall in «sous l’ombre d’un klukva majetueux.»
   Almost by kicking – I flung the door and «with corporal steps» came in the middle of the room. Standing in pose «a la Gestapo» – from well-known movies – (feet are hip width apart, arms behind the back, nose slightly up). I slowly look round this Trinity with leaden stare, in which I industriously put in maximum of mocking neglect, – not less than 9 grammes. Then, raising a little my right eyebrow and slightly frowning the left one – I enunciate like an iron commissar – in hanging silence:

   – Guten Tag, genossen! My name is Lara. Ich! Bin! Lara! Who doesn`t like mosquitos here – please, hands up! Who`s not understood – hande hoh!

   Three guys stiffen in astonishment, looking over this strange subject who has burst into their room in the `midmorning` and demands to lift their hands up. Then they slowly exchanged glances and began to smile.

   – I`m directed to you from Committee. If you not against – I`ll be your guide and get you to the Lake Baikal. You must obey me – implicitly! Step to left – step to right – shooting – without warning! Questions?

   They were not against, they were impressed by my `devilish charm`. But alas, my fount of eloquence was wasted in vain. Only one of them can speak Russian freely. And we went through the Syberia,in international company, playing cards, chess, chuck-a-luck, etc…
   People in the carriage were looking through the windows upon our bewitching endless expanse. They admired aloud, somebody was shooting a film. While I looked at his kamera, another fellow in very white vest passed by me. I turned my head purely by reflex – that irreal white spot fell within my view, – all people around were in `march-in-field-colours` – but this «dude» made his defile in such a defiant snow-white vest, which – on his suntanned and straightened shoulders – looked «Super-Upper». And generally, all his slim body impressed like «das ist fantastisch!».
   Later I saw him in our roomette. And we got acquainted, due to my germans. They told me that `this boy is riding in this train from Canada`. I amused a little with this `train-from-Canada`.
   And here – I began to stare at him. It was the first human specimen from the ocean which I saw nearby. However, quite handsome specimen! Only – not a word in Russian. And my English was effaced from the memory, just after exam 3 years ago. Because of its complete uselessness.
   His name was Brad.
   What impressed me from the first sight – his eyes. His look was not such as of our guys, not like of germans. There was openness of some another strange `format` there in, unlike those I ever saw before. Such crystal-clear unprotected openness – it took my breath away when I met with his eyes – slightly sad, but the same time – mischievous – in the depth of them amused `micro-devillets`. And this `crystal-clear unprotectedness` was fraimed by such bent downiness of cilia – flapping by which he could drive away light-winged butterflies flying on such devilishly magnetic lights of his pupils which must be black like any respectable pupils, but his ones shone, not only in light of lantern on platform where we went to walk, but also in light of the stars above our heads.
   Language barrier was overcoming with difficulties. Nevertheless, I knew that Brad was from Vancouver, he was 19 and went from Moscow to Nakhodka, from there – to Tokyo. I strained all my residuary convolutions to winkle out that little of English which remained in memory and tried to compensate shortage of vocalulary by gestures. However, in youth people understand each other easier. It`s enough that heart was alive and eyes not sleepy.
   Then we exchanged with addresses and said `bye-bye` to each other. In the morning I came down from the train and he went on further. We parted …
   In Ulan-Ude I dove in life of a young specialist on the armament factory. If someone that time would asked me : «Do you know what is Hades?» – I would answer without a bit of hesitation – «Yes!!! – It is our mechanoerecting workshop!» It was rumbling behind the wall which divided, not saving nobody of us – from its terrible roar. All conceivable and non-conceivable sounds of metal-to-metal interaction – clank, squeak, howl, scream – in ultrasound, knock, grind, repeating over and over again – didn`t stop – not for a minute. It was impossible to get accustomed to that. Sometimes I wanted greatly to become completely deaf, – such beyond all bearing! This continuous rumble blocked my ears, pulsated in temples, beated in occiput, cinciput, in all my head, which replied with terrifying migraines.
   Deaf and almost dead I returned in hostel and fell down on my bed trying to relax this painful spasm in head. At night sleeplessness or nightmares tormented me. It all repeated day by day, from morning to evening. And no gleam could be expected in nearest 3 years which I had to work out there as a young specialist.
   …And life in the country was very same as our mechanoerecting workshop… Perestroyka… Agony of The Great Empire… There was being broken Her backbone… and all conceivable and non-conceivable sounds of Hades resounded in aether. And also it blocked our ears and souls. Also there was a wish to become completely deaf. And there was sleepless the spirit, restless in anguish – amid awry reality of that time. And our, formerly, Victorious Spring-45 was advancing to December-91 of Belavezha Accords, which ment disintegration of USSR… breakdown of `The Great Empire`…
   The only distraction was reading. One day I saw by chance a luxurious green book. It was the Big English-Russian dictionary, second volume. I bought it and immediately felt inspired with studing English. What for? Simply… And here I had remembered about Brad, like in far away fog, as if long – long ago we walked with him along the carriage on that night platform.
   Looking in my new dictionary I wrote the first message and sent it to Canada. After that my heat faded away. This epistolary feat of arms exhausted my creative ardour.
   But in pair monthes I received my first epistle from behind The Iron Curtain. And there appeared cheerfully-sinister thought – «Well, for now I`m under observation of KGB…» (`Cause of the armaments factory of mine).
   Such was beginning of our correspondence, between two opposite worlds.
   There appeared fervour. The factory already didn`t seem of Ninth Circle. In contrast to this Hades – there appeared second pole of reality which drew all my attention. Letters became necessary as the breath of life. I lived with them – from one to another. They, those letters from-out `The Iron Curtain`, changed my hopeless reality of those days, bringing there in – spirit of the game and courage of the careless youth. And my life was in them. And there glimmered my spirit, warmed by this irreal passion.
   Our correspondence began as «Is there life on the Mars?» Such far-away and strange seemed his world to me. Which was the «happy-end» – read on further.

Letter 1
19.10.1989

   Dear Brad,
   Здравствуй, или, как там у вас – How do you do?
   Do you remember me?

   If you don`t, – look at the photograph and don`t break your head. My name is Larisa. I think that if I should write you «Hello, my fifteen-year-boy!» then it`s possible your memory remind you about our conversation. How are you? What is your dear health? What do you do now?
   Beforehand I want to bag your pardon for my mistakes – I write letter in English for the first time. This letter is written with helping of a dictionary. You can`t imagine my heroic unavailing efforts to express a flight of thought with my little English. How can I fly with a burden of a big and thick volume. It`s sad.

   I see your lenient smile, but I hope, that my English will improve if we become friends. If you will be writing me, your letters will be stimulus for me to learn English.
   Now, if you will write a letter, tell me about you. It`s interesting for me.
   Good-bye!
   P.S.
   I think that the world is cramped – we shall meet again. We shall meet surely. Write me. I wait for your letter.
   Larisa.
   PP.SS. If you`ll write a letter, send me your photograph, please, because I can forget your face.

Letter 2
23/12/1989

   Dear Brad, здравствуй!
   How long was travelling your letter (and mine was too).
   Thank you very much for it. Your picture (as your girl) is very nice. It was a happy chock to me. I like to receive letters unexpectedly (and with such pictures). The good mood is keeping long after. Your soft and delicate irony is charming. I`m shining still.
   But my shine is clouded little with the thought about throes of creation that accompanies my writing each letter to you. Look, how I`m doing it.
   First: I write it in Russian. Then I translate, then read, sadly laugh, think, smoke, drink some tea, think, tear it to pieces, immediately sorry about it and I begin all over again (the same story, etc). At last I despair, cross all out, take a new paper and give myself a promise to write for the last time and…
   Enough about it!
   Excuse my barbarian use of Divine English Grammar! I`m savage. But I`ll do all in my power to reform (myself). There is no Royal road…
   Thank you for your invitation. I should like to see your birthland (very much), I was never being abroad, but there are many problems to do it.

   1) One of them is an invitation. It must be official, signed and sealed, with the date (from… to…), etc. It may gives you many troubles. I don`t know how much nerves can be taken away by this procedure in your country. I don`t want to bother you.
   – But let`s assume it to be made.
   2) Then – wonderful events will come for me. – I`ll begin to draw up my documents… Oh, Brad, you don`t know what is it –`to draw up one`s documents to go abroad`! Even if I had known English tolerable I would not find my words to describe you that. Though, maybe, the devil is not so bad, as he is painted. (He is much worse!)
   Let`s assume it to be made too.
   Then, after long-suffering stage № 2 – it`s difficult to take ticket to Canada. Perhaps, you had never stand in a queue, therefore you cannot know what is it. But in our country…
   3) Ticket-queue to America is the most long. If somebody wants to go to Canada, one must care about tickets long before.

   `1,2,3` – this is concise description of my `unforgettable travel to Canada`. Of course, if to try – anything may happen. I hope all will be best. If you don`t afraid of troubles, try to realize point 1. Other I`ll take upon myself. Good luck to you! Далее –
   I want to correspond with you, because I want to know who you are. I know about americans only from TV and newspapers. But I prefer to associate with a living soul. (I mean your soul.)
   You`re retaining in my memory as a `fascinating infant with sad, but mischievous eyes`. Indeed you were such boy. Don`t be offended, please. I don`t want to hurt your feeling. It`s my way to speak. Hope, that you understand and forgive. I think that I cannot write about grave and sage things with such `smart` language as mine.
   I don`t know what a style of letter must be, particularly to foreigner. My free-and-easy (undully familiar) style of conversation is a survival of student`s life. I write to my friends such letters. I have many girl-and-boy-friends in CCCP, we were studing together and our letters prolong our friendship and preserve the Warmth of our hearts. The human Warmth is the most invaluable treasure in whole Universe. Do you agree?
   I can write some more, but I`m afraid to draw away your attention from your affairs. So: as my girl-friend wrote me one day: «целую в щечку и ставлю точку»
   (Litterally: `Kiss you to cheek and put a point`.)
   Your karate-dancer – Larisa.
   P.S. Now is 1990! You`ll be 20! My congratulations to You!
   And again – forgive my mistakes and unexactitude of my translation.
   Good-bye.
   PP.S.
   Try to read between. Sorry, I am without dictionary, therefore –
   I want only say that living speech is without rules usually. And my creation in this letter have a character of up-writing.( It mean =`living speech`).
   I like life and I think that life is breaking all rules (not break, but is undependently from all rules). The life is living.
   Этот сумбур подразумевает мои накопившиеся, рвущиеся наружу мысли и чувства, которые хотят сказать, что жизнь – это вечно живое, вечно изменяющееся. Её нельзя -------
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заковать в какие-либо жесткие рамки, она их ломает, рушит, прорывает и все делает по-своему,– вопреки и несмотря на. Язык – тем более, он рождается с каждым человеком и~~~~ достаточно. I`m sorry about this side of paper.
   Larisa.

Letter 3
30.01.1990

   Dear Brad, здравствуй!
   Thank you for your letter. I was very glad to receive it. It was as a sudden ray of light in the darkness. I don`t want to say `in the darkness`, but your letters brightly stand out against a background of my daily occurrences. I don`t like the humdrum of life.
   It does not mean that my life is boring. I have much to work. I work at a factory as a mathematicion. I`m a young specialist, just after studing. But I don`t like my work. I don`t like factory in general, because it is converting living people into machines. I feel that in myself. It`s sad.
   It`s sad too, that this city is strange for me. I left my friends in the past. Now, we can only write letters each other and sometimes, at the meeting, call up old memories: `Do you remember…?` and so on.
   New Year night I was alone, because my aunt and uncle had gone to their friends, and I was `tete-a-tete` with TV-set. I was looking in a dark space, dreaming about something. There was a candle on the table in front of me and New-Year tree was shimmering behind me. All around was silent and slightly wistful, beautiful and mysterious. Indeed, it was miraculous.
   I cannot express (describe) it in my words, but imagine – falling snow, somebody`s remote revelry, silence, pensive loneliness – only you and nothing else, only you and millions snowflakes and stars, flying through the darkness. You are face to face with the whole Universe. Past and Future, Space and Time, Life and Death are mixed in a phantasmagoric dance…
   Wonderful and rare state of mind…
   I was sitting in an arm-chair, drinking champagne and reveling my mood. It seemed to me, that it could continue eternally.
   All was exellent!
   Suddenly I felt poetry in my heart…
   It happen sometimes and there is nothing of terrible. It is a pernicious habit, but more harmless than to smoke for example. I took a paper, pen and began to dush off. And here my inspiration decided to splash out into English. I was understanding that it`s blasphemous, nevertheless, my Muse is capricious and if she had taken something into her head – I am weak to stop her. – I am a slave of my weakness.
   In short – my New Year masterpiece:
   There is no Love – only illusion.
   There is no thruth – only confusion.
   There is no Dream – only small hope.
   There is no anything – only sad mope.
   Just after writing I became to be proud of myself. I was up in the pink clouds.. I had a radiant picture of… Shakespear, Byron, Shelley… I decided to continue this enumeration –
   There is no ….? – here my vocabulary had run low. I floped down on the ruthless-sharp stones of the reality. Yes, `confusion will be my epitaph`!..
   The enchanting New-Year night was going to the end…
   Here is lyrical digression about my English. I can compare it with roaming in a dark forest. Without seeing my pass I now `forehead against the tree`, now `foot into ant-hill` or sprawl. But I try to march as if without embarrassment, careless whistling. Probably it`s fun. Oh, Teacher, don`t laugh at my first clumsy steps.
   How did you meet the New-Year? What holidays do you like? And what do you like in general? What is more often in your mood – cheerfulness or sadness? How had it happen that you came into our country? What the wing or wind had brought you into that train?
   By the way, I inquired about a trip abroad, the results are sad. Yes, it`s expensive (only tickets are cost my whole year`s salary), but it`s not only expensive – it`s impossible, because there are no tickets to Canada. Many people wish to fly there, and soviet air-lines cannot satisfy all (i.e. the tickets, which one can buy for the roubles have been sold forward to year).
   So, my travel to Canada must remain only in dreams. It`s not the most sad thing in my life. For example, imagine, that I cannot comeback from Canada to CCCP by the same reason – that is more sad and fun, isn`t it?
   So it goes…
   There are many problems in our country nowadays. This time is very difficult for us. Yet, I believe in bright future. Time will show.
   Such long letter is this. I cannot another.
   Now it`s cold. Temperature is about -40 C.
   I like skiing too, and I like to dance, but now I must sit at my table whole day. It`s terrible. Гиподинамия is my whip. (I cannot find this word in my dictionary, it means `without motion`). I dream to go in for sports and not smoke. When the winter will finish I`ll begin to run every morning and jump and dance and fly and… –I like to dream, do you?
   Now is night. All around me is sleeping. Only my window is warming a cold darkness.
   Silence… immobility… rest…
   So long, Brad!
   Take care of yourself.
   Your lonely friend – Larisa
   P.S. How can I forget you? (You are a `ray of…`)
   Good-bye! (Bye-bye…)

Letter 4
15.02.1990

   Dear Brad, здравствуй!
   Your letter is before me at last. I`m thankful for your care for my person. It`s so kind of you.
   But I wrote, my travel to Canada cannot be real, at least in these 1-1,5 years. Money is not tremendous problem – to realise it (tickets) – is the task.
   I am a simple soviet human and cannot fly over the ocean. Yet, I must say: 1. the travel is not the end in itself, 2. I cannot even imagine to come there in your absence.
   I agree with you in `…it would be to complicated a pattern for either you or me to comprehend…`– as I understand,– indeed, to write each other as `Soviet to Canadian` is not natural. And God forbid to write seriously about own political opinions or about home-foreign policy of countries.
   Policy – momentary, human soul – immortal.
   So, let`s talk about eternity, infinity… etc
   There exist two humans, who write letters. It`s possible, they will never meet once again (agree, there is any charm in this – `letters from nowhere`). They are like two straights in Euclid space, intersected in one point and speed away – each to own eternity and infinity. Good luck for them!
   My dear infant, may I try to explain you the sense of `…sad, but mischievous eyes…` what it means.
   `Sadness` is not a simple sadness, it means that inexpressible and agonizing-beautiful state of human soul, when you are looking at the stars (or at the sea),
   `but mischievous`– it means `homo sum humani nihil a me alienum puto`. Now, I think, it is not far from truth. (Believe me, I never mistake).
   You can say that it is only compliment (or slander?) – if you think so => I pass. But there are no many people who can be rewarded such a compliment from me. (Be proud!!! – ha-ha)
   What is concerned my apologies for my writing – well, I take into my consideration. И понеслась душа в рай! (и туша вдогонку)
   Yes, it`s difficult, but interesting to communicate with a foreign language. Particularly, when you try to express something non-concrete, but ephemeral, ellusive. – Like an elefant in a china shop.
   Что ж, the elefant is a noble animal. Let`s excuse it`s awkwardness in the shop.
   As I can see, you began to touch with Russian language. I salute this. Здоровья, счастья и успехов на этом тернистом пути!
   As usually I write letters at night, sometimes whole night. Do you want to hear one story before your sleeping? (But why do I think that you read it at night?). When my brother was infant (he is the same age with you) he liked to listen to me.
   This is a short, naïve story with happy-end.
   … Once upon a time there lived a girl named Little Red Riding Hood – a dreamy and diffident teenager. She was a pride of her school – not smoked, not drank, got exellent marks, and what is more – she believed in Communism, in short – model for imitation – and she walked with vigorous strides to this `bright future of all mankind`. The horizon was clean and serene, daybreak coloured her youth in loving-pink tones. She was luxuriating under father-mother wing, flying somewhere in clouds, building castles in the air,–the world was beautiful and wonderful!
   One day this pink-cheeked child entered to university, far from home. What happened afterwards – nothing is known…
   Only lifeless ruins of beautiful in former time castle are mourned by the grey clouds and every night heart-rending moans terrify wayfarers. Ghosts are naughty.
   But what has become of child? What does she build now? Does she believe in something? Where is she tramping with such bitter and devastated smile?
   …Such emptiness, heartache, and no one to stretch out their hands
   In comfort when storms overtake us.
   Desires! What the use of desires unfulfilled, vain demands?..
   So year follows year – all our best years escape us.
   To love… but why should we?.. For a while it is not worth the strain,
   And no one can love on for ever.
   But look in your heart… does one trace of the past yet remain?
   The joy of it all, and the sorrow – mere wasted endeavour…
   The passion? Why, sooner or later their honied distemper
   By rational caution is cured at one stroke…
   And life – if you care to look round with cool-headed attention –
   Is simply an empty and rather a second-rate joke. (Lermontov, 1840, Great Russian Poet)
   Child of Time! – Cheer up! Eppur si muove! Look, new dawn smiles for you.
   At this optimistic note I`m finishing.
   I wish you happy dreams.
   Don`t forget, write.
   Твой далекий друг – Лариса.
   P.S. I`ll soon go to official journey, and I don`t know how long it will be.
   Please, write me to the address bellow.
   670000, USSR, Ulan-Ude, Borsoev street 21-54. This is address of my aunt. I don`t have constant address, but this one is const.
   With love – Larisa.

Letter 5

Сегодня я чувствую в сердце
Неясную дрожь созвездий…
(Ф.Г.Лорка)

23/02/90

   Dear Brad, здравствуй!
   Today I`m feeling a writering mood, so one more immortal chef-d`oeuvre of inspired scribblerness is doomed to appear before your indulgent look.
   Likely, as a result of my work with a dictionary I become an irrepressible prattler, who talks sheer nonsense. Indeed, I play with English language as a little girl, who has seized upon her loved toy. Чем бы дитя ни тешилось, лишь бы не ревело.
   Simply,–today is the week-end,–vivat!
   Oh, it`s such pleasant in Sunday morning to have sleep myself out, to stay little in a bed, to forget for a short while about affairs and give myself up to a blissful philosophizing – a weak-willed body, lazy thoughts, the room is immersed in a sweet languor. Time is slumbering in the kingdom of sleep. Such beautiful to dissolve in the tender arms of Morpheus!
   Stand up and fight!
   Oh, homo sapiens! (Oh, oh! You are a sapi – yes!)
   I throw the window open – a joyful wind burst into my room. – The weather is fine! – The sun is shining, sparrows are gaily chirping, children are noisy on the yard. – Spring!
   Spring – shortage of vitamins and peace of mind.
   Spring – the time of Love.
   Today I love myself. It happen not every day, but today – I admire the sun, the sky, the life!
   All is glittering, playing, singing… the heaven fly open!
   And even, – can you imagine! – One decrepit fly crawled out from nowhere to buzz her happy hymn of Waking. How and where could she have been sleeping whole the winter?
   Oh, wonderful world! I`m touched. Nice God`s creature! It must be so difficult and comfortless, in winter, to sleep among cold stones. `I admire her bravery and perseverance at fighting such a task as this`
   // Excuse my little plagiarism. I study your letters diligently. To the point, in the last one the phrase: `I bid you my heart`. Please, explain me. Is it idiom or it`s accepted to write in that way? What it means? How and when can this be used? In my dictionary: `bid` – it`s written something concerned auktion, card games, order.//
   I would be standing at the window and wasting sentiments whole day, but today I must kiss my adorable aunt, have been sitting in a library, run along shops – авось(maybe) – it`ll happen to be something-somewhere. Usually, it`s seen from a distance. If you see a crowd(a queue) => go there, if you see a tremendous crowd => run there, you`ll never mistake. Join to this united collective and be meek, but careful (else you`ll be trampled).
   Here you can hear last news and rumours, see many interesting people and events, resentfully philosophize about high assignment of Human. After all you`ll be rewarded for your patience.
   One day, with my dear cousin I walked along a street. Suddenly we saw a big crowd. The force of reflex threw us into this disturbed mass. As it `d turned out, it was a meeting of protest against soiling Lake Baikal. My young cousin rushly entered in a Committee of saving. Now, at unlimited sittings-meetings these «heros» save our beautiful lake. I laugh at her. Poor girl! But youth is so hasty. I was the same too. I love my cousin, the only allied soul in this city, who truly loves me. Every Sunday evening we usually walk and talk – about many things – about Time and about ourselves.
   This time is nervous. There are many irritated people. – They don`t notice the spring – they run somewhere with preoccupied faces, fuss, bustle. The city seems an alarmed hive.
   I return home. Tomorrow again the factory – it`ll be tomorrow, but now – I`ve turned on my table lamp and music, sit down in the arm-chair and take a book. Here is such silently and quietly. Loudless music`s tenderly lulling my resting body and nerves, shrouding my mind and carrying away, far from this dissatisfied world.
   It`s playing `King Krimson`, my favourite concert `In the court of the Krimson King` (Epitaph – oh, it`s deadly beautiful, Moonchild,etc). I catch the кайф (slang ~~satisfaction). A cup of coffee, a cigarette… it would be fine here a small glass of cognac and … second one… (ha-ha) – in-general – it would be fine. Alas, presence of absence…
   I take the russian-English dictionary and go away from all this vanity of vanities.
   This evening I devote to you, my dear far-away friend. From-under my pen it`s born this funny and touching letter.
   Night on the yard… Time to sleep.
   My God! It`s already after midnight. We`re been sitting up very late.
   Good-bye! Don`t consign to oblivion.
   I`m returning to the night. Lar.
   P.S. If my letter or preceeding ones seem to you little sad – take it easy. All is momentary, and our lives, thoughts, emotions. Particularly our emotions… Sometimes it seems to me that you are only result of my imagination. And I talk to the wind…

Without dates ~~ March`90. (91?)

   My dear friend, здравствуй!
   How are you?
   I received your letters and mine, returned from Japan. Difficult to find you. I`ll send you two letters, ne? My poetry to you. Do you like it? Funny, ne?
   My dearest starry traveller, please don`t write to the address you wrote before. I do not live there. Your letters will be lost to that address. For now I live in a hostel, for a while, then – I hope to find something else, though it`s very difficult, because shortage of flats, – shortage of all – if you see news on TV, you can imagine that. For now I have a «койка-место» in hostel, literally – `bed-place` or `sleeping place`. It means several women, living in one room. We are not friends, we`re tired of each other, there are no common interests. It`s bad for me to be there in, I try to be anywhere only not at home – I leave hostel early, and come back about midnight. Such is life. But I`m not despairing of it. It`ll finish – sooner or later.
   The main of all – this terrible winter has finished. How I was waiting the spring!
   I decided to change my work in May, and changed all in my life – what is in my power – my power is a great inside energy that increasing every day.
   This summer will be the turning-point in my life – I feel. The only I fear of such a thing as civil war, that is very possible. I`m not afraid of death, but I want to live, because for now I have a sense, or goal, I know what must I do. It would be the great unjustice to be killed in the prime of life, ne? – Bad theme.
   Can you imagine I have ability to cure people. (Gift from grandfather).
   So I take an interest in such things as magic, mysticism, philosophy, psychology and many other things. For now I`m interested in Buddhism, and China. This or next year I`m going to go there. – The end of the letter arrives before us – so – take care of yourself.
   Write to me. I am waiting every day, every evening, etc
   So long
   Larisa.

Letter 6
18/03/90

   Dear Brad, здравствуй!
   Your letter from 27.02.90 disarms me, throws me into confusion. How can I – human, accustomed to speak about serious things, maybe the most sacred for myself, by ironical tone, creating a semblance that nothing is sacred to me? – How can I answer on your letter? The one is as a clear, tender voice of a flute at dawn, dewy morning, on which impossibly to pounce on by a cascade of heavy-metal in the glow of a fire.
   `What will she say?` – what can I say about that – hardly be expressed even on native language? (How) can I find these words in chaos of thoughts and feelings? Can I get out from this dark maze towards the daybreak and openly smile for you?
   …And now I`m walking to and fro in my room and meditating, my thoughts have travelled back to the past, looking through the whole life. I ask questions myself and try to answer. How can I?… – From the heart, too. –
   Итак.
   Who were, and are, you being for me? – at that time – in the train, and for now – in letters? I should say about a bewitching, mooving melody, has been heard by chance, in passing, but retaining in the heart for a long time, maybe, for ever.
   What have I seen in the eyes of the stranger, that such excited and amazed my soul? – I don`t know.
   Maybe, as sometimes it happens, – in unlimited searchings and vain throwings, – suddenly glance into one`s eyes and by the sixth feeling guess that something – incomprehensible by thoughts, that cannot be said by words, but inexplicably attracts. Alas, the instants fly away and this unexpressed and misunderstood something retains only in memory of the heart.
   For now your existance sometimes seems to me abstract, almost unreal. The fact that, most kindly, we will never meet once again makes our existance for each other as if `non-existant`. Our communication through the correspondence of letters has a touch of a fantasy (for me). Play of imagination. Maybe, it`s even fine.
   Oh, yes, it would be delightfully romantic – two strangers under a starry sky…
   A starry sky – it`s beautiful.
   The starry sky, in that I look for my God, – was looking for a long time, through the disbelief and despair, through labyrinths of doubts and `smoke of sigarettes`.
   It`s difficult to find the Belief, when all Gods are thrown down, when all is pulled down to the dust and only chilling winds freeze a naked, defenceless soul.
   It may seem that it`s bad for me. Not, I don`t complain. But (sometimes) this still hurts…– I`ll not speak about this any more.
   `What does, and did, she think of my heart?` – dear Brad, what do I think? Just maybe I could have fallen in love with you. But the fate is taken us away to different sides. Each of us is going own road. – But that moment cannot be struck out of the life.
   I would be listening to the flute at dawn, but I`m `moonchild, playing hide-and-seek with the ghosts of Down`.
   I can only say by the words of Byron –
   Remember me is all I ask.
   But if remembrance proves a task – forget!
   And what is more, 07.07.1990 I`ll be 24. Sunset of the life for me. I`ll not live `lo-o-ong and ha-a-appy`. Time is speeding. I`m retiring to the night. Adiue.
   Good-bye!
   Sincerely your – with love,
   Larisa.
   P.S. reading your letters I can say – I guessed.
   Возможно, это письмо покажется тебе корявым или что-нибудь в этом духе – поверь, что оно искреннее, кончаю столь быстро, так как боюсь удариться в пустопорожний speech about nothing. Если стечение обстоятельств заставит меня замолкнуть – ты будешь извещен об этом моей cousin or brother.
   So long. With love – Lar
   P.P.S. I cannot feel your language. It`s sorry. What it means – `to be cautious of one`s letter`?

Letter 7
31.03.90.

   Dear Brad, здравствуй!
   Today I`ve received your letter from 09.03.90.
   Thank you – it was so fine. But, as I can suspect, either you hadn`t my letter from about middle of February ~ 15-16.02.90, as if it `had lost` by road, or – I don`t know.
   Though, it`s quite innocent. Of course, it`s a pity, but it`s get worse. Now I`m just after my work, so – there is no idea in my head. Yet, I prepared to write, maybe, whole the night. – I`m usual night-owl. I like to think or work at night. I love night time. Thoughts are very clean, emotions and feelings `fly up` from earth. – Fine!
   Today I received a business letter from China – something about semigroup theory, sheer nonsense, – marasmus. Yet, I must read that, digest my reading – my God! No power. Not long ago I received a letter invitation on conference Hong-Kong-91, China-92. Such unexpectedly and undeservedly. What I am a scientist? – `a young hope`, then undisciplined student – one of thousands – in the past, – in present – I am a worthless mathematicion, hardly remembering the multiplication table, – in future – ? I hope, my descendants will go farther. Though, maybe, the last splash of my slumbering intellect, and – hello, Hong Kong!
   It would be fine! It would be fine-fine!
   Alas, it`s too late to begin all over again. My best years have sped away such useless! It`s my tragedy – not only mine and even not tragedy. I never worry about `what cannot be cured`. Simply – c`est la vie.
   And, in general, Mathematics cannot peacefully coexist with a woman in one room, in particular, in mine.
   Indeed, Math requires for head to be clean and cold and abstract. But I cannot be such lady – stone-heart, iron-nerves, ice-soul. (It seems to me, those people are most happy).
   So, my `fervid` head presents a lot of odds and ends. Particularly, for now.
   Thus => M&W=>MorW – quod erat demonstrandum!
   My delightgul aunt, in her sententious speech on the occasion of my `broken fate`, utters: `Don`t forget – the assignment of woman is to bring up children`.
   Then she begins to enumerate numerous dignities and brilliant qualities of young men, who `would be glad, not only glad, but happy` and… at her opinion, and – in my age, and … it would be fine… and… so on…
   Usually I respectfully listen to her, smiling and noddling.
   In the end we exchange phrases, such as:

   – Look around! What do you see?
   – Nothing extraordinary…
   – Look into a mirror at last! You are already 23!
   – Of course, I look into a mirror, at least, every morning. Yes, I`m only 23…
   – Oh, terrible infant! Look into your future!
   – Oh, dearest aunty! I`m not prophet.

   I go away (from her) with philosophical mood and deep in thoughts about life. – What is our life? –
   A short flash in the darkness, and, in a global sense, all is nothing – vanity of vanities. (My) life costs nothing. In the name of «What» I must flutter? – To attain success, any illusive summit – of something? Oh, let me live, love, laugh – as I want, – according to my own presentation about values of ` This World `, to see the world by my own eyes, to think my own thoughts, and, after all, to die my own death. – And nothing more…
   All another is tinsel.
   And, in-general, the life is X-game – any crazy chain of games, yes, I am the player. Yet, I live such, as if the life is a significant thing, but not forgetting this `as if`, i.e. in the terms said above, those games must be games of chance, else it`s lost once edge or a sense. Maybe, such approach to the life is going away from reality, but I quite perceive the last. It seems to me, – all of us are children playing `in life`. There exist the necessary rules for all – don`t kill, don`t harm, love one`s neighbour, etc – and there exist sets of rules for each – rules for one`s games.
   I take into consideration the first (hold sacred!), but the second – it`s occuring to me for the course of events or a train of thoughts. I cannot foretell what an idea will dawn upon me tomorrow – to become an yogi or to marry, – the life is a coincidence, all is depending on circumstances. Though, not quite so…, even quite not so… – in short, I`ve lost in words (and, likely, in life). Indeed, what I`m a mathematician.
   Yet, I try to continue.
   Reading your preceeding letter, it seems to me, that you believe in God. I want to ask you: am I right? Indeed, do you believe? God – what it means (is) for you? What is your Belief?
   It`s not iddle questions, not abstract interest.
   The matter is that – I was being brought up as a `militant ` materialist, and such notion as God was alien for me. It was connected only with perverted knowledges about Christianity, gotten under powerful influence of anti-religious propaganda. I`ll not tell what an image was called up by the word `God` – nothing of respectable. I couldn`t imagine, it seemed to me so funny, that young men can believe in God. In my subconsciousness – there was only that had been knocked into my head (by school, etc).
   I was so naïve, I thought, that it`s the absolute truth. I`m a perfect boor in another outlooks. It`s interesting for me to have known others, besides creative-Marxism-Leninism. Of course, (for now) there exist the books, in which I should find the answers. But the book – is only book. Quite another matter – somebody`s belief, if it is indeed Belief – it can convince. Did you ever doubt your Belief? – if not – you`re probably a happy fellow.
   To believe, the Belief – these words have so great meaning for me (just sacred). I lost ability to believe. Not to believe as to trust, I believe-trust in everything-to-everybody, but to believe in the global sense, – it`s over my power.
   I can understand many things by my mind, heart. But any understanding is not belief. Understanding is an instrument, but the Belief is the great inside power, and it`s force – unlimited. That`s what I want to find. It`s necessary to know yourself, get to know the World. Probably, it`s the sense of life.
   Everybody is looking for something. What is yours?
   Of course, such questions must be discussed not in such a way (in foreign language). It`s necessary to see the eyes of interlocuter, the discussion must be animated, have a dialogic character – question-answer. But, alas, presence of absence.
   What can I write any more? For example –
   Now I begin to go in for sports. What kind – difficult to say – some special sequence of exercises, invented by me. I want to have a body `without bones`. And what is more, it`s good and useful for health and ideal relation `human-space`. It`s necessary for me to restore my wasted vital energy. I want to feel the space.
   I have one `idee fixe` concerned with energy, one experiment at myself. The matter is that – my grand-grand father was very interesting man, not quite usual. He had a great power, likely, he was an extrasense. If to believe in legends (living untill nowadays), indeed, likely at that. It was being said that he could do exstraordinary things, -------
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. I admire it and what is more – I want to study this phenomenon. Maybe – develop it in myself – why wouldn`t it? – I`m his descendant. It must be possible for me. I can suppose – what and how it`s done, but I know that, I feel. (here is necessary Belief, it`s power). My rest life will be concerned with it. It would be such interesting, but results cannot be foretold, though, I feel – all will be fine! If to try and throw away doubts and throwings – towards to God!
   Life is beautiful and wonderful! At least, interesting. Fine!
   Necessary to stop smoking at first, – it`s over my power. Maybe, when I`ll marry. Let it will be my wedding gift for a human, who will be made happy by me. (ha-ha)
   The end of the letter arrives before us. Thanks for your care for my health, about smoking. I congratulate your future wife with such a wedding-gift as yours (i.e. «well-shaped body of you» :) ).
   So long. // don`t forget me when you`re freed by Spring defeat of Winter. (Again plagiarism)//
   Excuse my remarks. With love – Larisa.

Letter 8
05.05.90

   Dear Brad, здравствуй!
   I`ve received your letter from 30.03.90 – such long it`s travelling. Thank you! It`s so, so in-time, such beautiful. Possible, my replying letter will seem to you little sad or dreary. Sorry.
   Simply – тоска…
   There exists some mood, when there is only one wish – to have slept without waking. There are no emotions, feelings, energy for life – the only -------
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хандра.
   Without concrete reasons, at least, outside ones. But inside – it`s deeply rooted.
   Sometimes it rolls as a wave of profound, causeless sadness. And sometimes – a maddening nostalgia. Rarely, but poignantly. But sometimes I feel myself such… – difficult to express – how, – either spleen or something more. Тоска…
   I understand, it`ll end, sooner or later. But for now – it`s terrible. All colours of world grow dark. I`m sick of everything. Unbearable anguish oppresses the heart. And there is no salvation from this. Хочется послать все к черту или самой туда отправиться.
   Your letter has saved me. I`m retiring – to the world, which such beautiful, created by our imagination. The world, in which – warm summer nights and the starry sky. There are much music, lights, Youth and Beauty. There are – dewy morning, free wind, cloudless sky. There are…
   Do you hear music?
   Oh, my dear stranger, may I engage you for a dance?
   We`re dancing under a starry sky or in the Heaven, among stars and comets, or – we`ve become comets and we`re flying through the space towards far, strange worlds. The cosmic dust cover our tracks…
   We are children of the Earth and our world is wonderful. Печаль моя светла…
   For now – deep night. The window is opened and far stars smile me tenderly and sadly – one of them – mischievously. Look at the sky. Do you see the One? It is the most bright. I present this star to you.
   Good-bye!
   With love –
   Larisa.
   P.S. If you see a falling star – guess a wish, сбудется.
   «Откуда, – спросишь ты, – волна моей печали,
   Что бьётся как прилив о каменный утёс»,
   – Kоль сердца урожай однажды мы собрали,
   Жизнь – это только боль! К чему же твой вопрос?
   (Baudelaire `Semper eadem` – one of my favourite poets./ in translation to Russian)

Letter 9
8/05/90

   Dear Brad, здравствуй!
   Oh, how beautiful your letters! – I`ve loved them. They open the wonderful soul, – soul of poet, dreamer, romantic. Such beautiful that there exist such people, – people, who see the Color of the Wind, who hear the `гул вечности`, whose hearts are vulnerable by Beauty.
   How I understand you! I touch with your soul and hear the heartbeat. Your letters, – oh, – I cannot compare it with something, – yes, – Difficult to explain the Color of the Wind, it must be felt. – They inspire me to live, to look at the sky, to believe.
   They drop a spark into my heart, unfreeze it.
   How I pine for the Dawn, for the Harmony of lost world, for the melody of love. Such a tender sadness, such a lightful nostalgia… my God! Can it really be true? I read over and over and over…
   How I`m grateful to fate, thrown me into the train to meet your eyes. I`m afraid to lose you, my friend, I`m afraid that thin thread of our communication suddenly will be torn, and mirage`ll clear away – left only a bitter smile and a lonely echo.
   It`s a beautiful night-dream. What will the morning have brought with it?
   Tomorrow I`ll go to official journey, untill 15/06/90.
   And again in Novosibirsk`s Academgorodok. It`s the town of my youth, my alma-mater.
   There`s a little pain to return there again and again. Maybe, one day I`ll return there for ever. Who knows?
   I think, this year I`ll been living here still, but I cannot suppose where I`ll be next year.
   Life can play solitaire topsyturvy. Please, write me to the address of my aunt. They always know where I am.
   Your previous letter was gotten by me just after my long journey in Academgorodok. That splin was called up by this. I`m sorry that I splash out my mood upon you, but I cannot write against myself. – Прости, так вышло…
   Крик среди моря!
   Чьё сердце, ставши волною, – о волны грусти! – в море кричало? Голос, откуда голос? Какие крылья занесли тебя в пучину?
   …каждый вал тебя увлекает, и – вал рассекая грудью, острей чем плавник дельфина, – ты снова исходишь криком: хрипом, хрипом, хрипом…
   О, крыльев парус бессильный! На крыльях ласточки хрупкой все дальше, все глубже, глубже, глубже…
   Крик среди моря!..
   Разве поможет звездное эхо?..
   Крик среди моря!.. (Мачадо или Хименес?)
   …..
   Thank you for your wish for my love. But marriage and love are different notions, not always together. I prefer the second, yet.
   Question of a marriage – I never took it seriously. Only with `ha-ha`. Though some people still try to convince me in a historical necessity of this great deed `for the welfare of mankind`.
   By the way, if your name is pronounced in Russian, more softly or tenderly [Brad]=>[Bred], it`s get `Bred`=Бред. In Russian it means `fantasmagoria, figment of imagination`. Does it flatter for you? (Excuse my childish trick. It is I – `so-and-so`).
   It seems I digressed from the theme. – As always.
   Such is woman`s nature.
   But if to say not mind, but heart – heart waits for one, who will be the only. It`s ready to wait for a long. Unless it`ll have frozen over completely. Life is cruel, it breaks illusions, dreams; it convert lyric into cynic, lamb into ram. – Anything may happen. Yet, life is beautiful. And heart knows, and waits.
   …`Maybe, he will be a stranger on a long night train?` – oh, it would be too romantic, too incredible for it to be real.
   But in `that reality` – all is possible.
   F.e. imagine – written love, kiss, marriage – and all charms and thorns of it in written form. (Again I laugh, but here is any bitterness).

   Ветерок постучался негромко
   В мое сердце при свете зари
   – Я принес ароматы жасмина,
   Ты мне запахи роз подари.
   – мой сад зарастает бурьяном
   И все розы мои мертвы.
   – я возьму причитанья фонтанов,
   горечь трав и опавшей листвы…
   ветерок улетел… моё сердце в крови…
   Душа! Что ты сделала с садом своим…
   Why I`m so intimate with you in the letters, as diary. Maybe, because you become the part of my soul?
   Yes, you are my invisible friend, not only friend – somebody more than… than real friend, – yes, part of soul.
   It is funny to live, ne? Too funny. For now it`s rain. What is rain? – Maybe – tears. What is love? What is life? I knew only what is laugh. Laugh at life, laugh at myself, laugh at this world, at the crowd, trampling the best feelings.
   Maybe my city – Ulan-Ude will soon be opened and you can come to me – в гости. Would you like to come to CCCP once more? Or to Novosibirsk. There – are all my friends.
   Not farewell!
   This summer I`ll have more spare time, so I begin to study Eng. Seriously. For now my success in that is only ability to read adapted books, such as `Pooh-the-Bear` or `Winny-the-Pooh` – such a nice book, ne?
   `It will be then`. I wait for your letters, not only replying ones.
   With love, Larisa.
   One more paper.
   For now I am sitting in airport and waiting for airliner. And contemplate the crowd around me. And more – I am writing to you. It`s a pity – here is no my loved dictionary, yet, I try to write in terms of words, known by me. What about?
   f.e. about life.
   What do you want from life? From yourself? Even – what do you expect? How your Romantism… feel itself… in real life or where are you – flying in clouds or between Heaven and Earth?
   You remind me of my darling little brother. His name is Alexander or simply Sasha or Shura. I very-very love him. He always can understand me withour words, – understand and forgive. He is poet (and math too). And, in-general – handsome boy. As I can see, he cannot decide what he`ll do in life. Such many doubts, hesitations, throwings.
   Where is the Truth? Where is my way? Who am I? What am i? etc.
   Each human one day must have done the choice. I think 25 is critical point for it. Now I stand on the cross-roads and try to define the direction for me. (There exist a proverbial such as `yoga or marriage` only for our circle of my friends-girls). And I cannot – my head is cracking at the seams.
   Let me think one more year, until 25. To find myself.
   Indeed I want to begin to go in for yoga – to knowledge. My idee-fixe is concerned with it, but not with Math, this factory, this life.
   Question of marriage… difficult to say.
   What is marriage? If it`s necessity, then this one, i.e. necessity can wait for 25, or more far. Because as I can see the life, woman in marriage must do a choice – `either-or`. Such many problems. F.e. imagine if she stand in a queue during 2-3 or 4 hours, then she must do her work with such mood, after that. What will be?
   I saw many women in marriage, simple women – I do not want to be like they. The only thoughts in their mind – where it can be bought? How much it is cost? Etc, – -------
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   My aunt says that I am torn from reality, and my parents too.
   But if human is such?..
   I am not torn from this life, but I can live in many realities simultaneous. And this fact stops me to have done the choice. Because –

   1) if: to go in for Yoga, – way to perfection requires from human to be perfectible, i.e. many human qualities (weakness=слабость) must be killed. But I too love life, I`m a woman and all properties of them are not alien to me.
   2) but if: to live only as woman, – тоска… always I`ll feel that it isn`t mine. I`m tearing between 1) and 2), between 3) and 4) and so on.
   I fear, I am afraid of crucial step, I fear that I cannot fight for or against.
   Human is created for … what?
   For getting to know the World, the Universe, (maybe understand of God), not only by mind, or only heart; human must self-develop, – self-perfect – and soul, and heart, and intellect, and body.
   Thirst of Knowledge, thirst of feeling of the Harmony of the World, of love. Human must fly in mind, by soul. Human must …..
   I believe in Human (Human soul is my God, maybe). God is soul?
   Not long ago I`d remembered strokes – something from ancient Indian (?):
   Внутри себя раскрепости себя –
   Тогда придет великая Свобода…
   What is the absolute Freedom?
   God and `absolute-inside-Freedom` can exist simultaneous or not?
   Inside freedom – is my Dream, my Goal. Maybe.
   Yet, sometimes I feel myself as a simple, weak woman, who needs in Love. Sometimes I want to be a business human. Such many wishes.
   It`s difficult to understand oneself. What I want indeed? – To sleep… I am tired.
   Yet, I`m ready to begin all over again. Last splash of youth…
   Why I write you this? Maybe because you`re my special friend. You become the part of my soul, of my life.
   I hope – eppur si muove!
   With love – your far friend – Lara.

   P.S. I very wait for your letter – one more life, maybe more beautiful than others.

Letter 10
23.05.90

   Dear Brad, здравствуй!
   Again night, table-lamp, letter (to nowhere). Three things that have become the part of my life. And more – it`s raining…
   A rain in Academgorodok is a beautiful picture. A small town in a large forest, – and rain…
   It calls up dreams, – the mood, given up to reverie.
   Do you like thunderstorm?
   What do you do for now? – Ah, you are reading this letter? – Indeed. – And I – am writing…
   In thoughts for now I`m – somewhere – far away from here, maybe, in Noda-shi.
   I try to guess your mood, when you`re reading, to see your eyes when you smile, – to feel you.
   What would you do if suddenly you saw me this moment before you, – at midnight?..
   Look up! – I`m here. – Don`t afraid of me. – I`m not a ghost, – I am the guest. – your guest – forgive my late visit. – Terrible storm. – Awfully in the forest. – I`m such numb and wet. – Please, let me warm myself about your fire…
   I`ll tell you stories about wonderful things, or I`ll be listening to you, or, the better, – let keep silence and contemplate the rain.

   Ливень ласки и грусти прошумел в захолустье…

   Such pleasant to sit in a lightful, cosy room, be wrapped in a dry, warm plaid and to look through the window, and there – rain, night, summer…
   Maybe, let`s go for a walk? Such fine to walk along night streets, jumping over pools, catch drops of the rain by lips, laugh, play the fool, ne?
   Indeed, fine. Ah, if it were not for.
   Откуда такая нежность
   И что с нею делать, отрок?..

   What is the difference between `tender bitterness` and `bitter tenderness`?
   Dear boy, if you had known who you`re for me…
   Such a wonderful story…
   Our descendants will be wondering.
   Maybe, they will not know such a notion like boundary. I even envy them. They will meet and, who knows, maybe have fallen in love with each other and marry, or simply become friends. And their parents or grandparents, i.e. we, – we shall pour forth wisdom. But maybe, we`ll go for a walk under a starry sky, ne?

   Good bye!
   With love, Larisa.
   P.S. Not farewell! I see we`ll meet soon. I see, because I`m magicion. Believe me, it`s true. I can see future as my ancestor. (Sometimes)
   And in general, I begin to take a great interest in `occult sciences`. Such interesting, such wonderful!
   At least – it`s my (new) `idee-fixe`. But seriously. Do you believe in magic? – if not – I`ll show you something to convince, f.e. suddenly appear before you.
   Do you want – I`ll teach you that.
   До встречи! – Untill our meeting in `nowhere`.
   I kiss you through the rain. Don`t forget, write me. So long. Larisa.

Letter 11
16.06.90

   To my dearly beloved friend.
   Здравствуй, Brad.
   I`ve returned to you from Academgorodok.
   I read your letter that was waiting for me for a week.
   How wonderful to receive your letters.
   I wonder again and again – is it really?
   It seems to me that ability or possibility to wonder makes our life bearable, ne? Human needs something astonishing, surprising, – human lives by expectance of Wonder.
   And if one hasn`t lost the ability to wonder, to amaze, to admire of – be it echo from nowhere, or dawn, or sunset, – life doesn`t lose the sense, ne?

   I left my dipression. And dream again.
   Today my big brother came to me and asked: `Is it true, that you have fallen in love with an american? You cannot find soviet? You`re crazy?`
   He understand nothing. – Another matter my little brother. He writes me: `Lska (it`s my name in his interpretation), you are starry-eyed. I pray that you will be happy`. So it goes.
   Yes, maybe, indeed I`m little crazy, unworldly, yet, it`s the better. Human must have `a little craze`, his own craze.
   I read `I draw you close to me…` – dear Brad, I feel the warmth of your heart, your kiss touched me. Indeed, such amazing (such crazy), but maybe, it is my destiny to have fallen in love with `far-away star`, who mischievously smiles for me `from nowhere`, through a blanket of clouds. But clouds will have fled. I believe.
   …Так, руки заложив в карманы,
   Стою. Меж нами океан.
   Над городом туман, туман.
   Любви старинные туманы… (Цветаева )
   …
   You are my friend. You are my Wonder. The only one.
   До свидания! With love.
   P.S. I`ll not break our communication. I promise.
   p.p.s. What of my picture hangs on your wall?

Letter 12
31/06/90 ;)

   Dear Brad, здравствуй!
   To teach some Russian? – Милый Брэд, я люблю тебя…
   `Why did you take me for a walk the night?` – indeed, I wonder still, why did I like you so much from the first look into eyes? A chance meeting, and such a strong impression.
   It was such pleasant, such – … – to look into your eyes. I love people`s eyes. Yours radiated some serene light or something more.
   I felt myself with you such… lightly, such …, it was as if a load off my heart.
   Maybe, because you believe in God. Not destruction there in.
   Yes, I was `a little girl`. And now, when I think of you, when I dream of you, my heart becomes youthful and clear, fills with music and light… I fly up… to the stars…
   When you`d wished me `good-night` and went to sleep I felt sadness, by some reason.
   But there left a light feeling and something more. You were in my life as a meteor, but the one fell into my heart. I often had been remembering that evening.
   I keep this remembrance as one of those moment, that `остановись, мгновенье!`…
   And more, our meeting had occurred at that time – that summer I was running away from myself, I looked something to forget the grief, the pain…
   When I read my diary of those days – much of despair there in. Pages about you, just after, is written with such a tender warmth, – `about canadian boy`.
   And one day, late autumn, reading the one, I`d found address and wrote the letter. So it was…
   Yes, it was so…
   Now, tell me, please, how it was with you? I want to know.
   What can I tell you about my country? Yes, it`s changing – political, economical, etc.
   I`m not politicion. – I cannot do a review of all these changes. I can only say that our country is seething, boiling up. Страсти накаляются. «Жуть стала веселей, жуть стала интересней.»
   To live here is `cheerful and interesting`, if one has optimism, endurance and ironical-philosophical attitude to reality.
   Yet, I salute this «перестройка», Горбачев, this difficult time.
   Yes, much difficulties. But how without it. Child is born in torments.
   Yet, our people can be happy at life.
   To laugh – at coupons for food-stuffs, at loud queues for something of shampoo or socks (it`s funny), to laugh at trifling sum and increasing prices, etc.
   There are much to laugh at.
   Yet, I love this time. (With little bitterness).
   I believe in future. I`m optimist.
   My country lived through more terrible things.
   Sometimes, when I read History, that become known only for now – the blood curdles… this is painful theme for me. Enough of it.
   Why is my marriage on duty? A Task?
   I don`t think so. I agree with you in this matter. But my relations try to convince me in that. The matter in children. I must have child while I`m young still.
   But how can one live with not beloved human? The better – to live lonely. I cannot go against my heart. It`s my right, ne? In the end of all, – I`m free in my choise: to be or not to be. Enough of that.
   It`s a pity, that you didn`t send me the picture of you, – though, if there are you with a girl – it is the better that you didn`t.
   Don`t be offended, please. Simply – such is a woman nature – I`m slighly jealous… even without the right for it.
   With love – Lar.

Letter 13
07/07/90

   Dear Brad, здравствуй!
   Today at night I`d written you a letter, but I`ll never dare to send you such an epistle. So I begin a new. To much a burning blood was there in. I`m fallen in love as a 15-years girl.
   Such amazing – Love…
   Thank you for your picture – lovely one.
   You stand before me and I carry on unlimited dialogues with you.
   Today is my birthday. I`m 24! What a love in such age? I`m too tired for it. And, what is love? Can Love bring happiness? Or the only bitterness? Maybe, it`s only self-delusion. To have fallen in love with mirage… Brad or Бред?
   A great confusion in my soul. Where is the truth? What is the Truth? If God exist, then the Truth – too, and Love.
   I would want, too much, to love.
   To love – not only friends, relations, mankind.
   To love – the only one, in real world. Not mirage. If you feel my intonation, I`m tired…
   Yes,` today at night` I couldn`t sleep. Whole night.
   Yes, I love you.
   Ты когда-нибудь бродил в предрассветном тумане, в белом мраке, возникает чувство нереальности, отрешенности от этого мира. То ли потому, что слова вязнут в воздухе, то ли оттого, что эхо слишком гулкое. Но в этот миг ты постигаешь какую-то истину…. Знаешь ли – трудно говорить. But a strange truth of fog – this white darkness – there exist too.
   Why I speak of a fog? – I feel myself as if for now I`m walking in fog. Feelings shouldn`t be analysed. However I feel (love?) and cannot understand – what is it? But, maybe, to send you my night letter? And you would feel me?
   Of course, it`s sorry that for now I cannot touch you, cannot look into your eyes.
   And even, I fear our meeting.
   Let it will go (by itself?) as the fourth dimension, or fifth in Space-Time (fourth one is time).
   Such difficult to speak. Because of morning.
   I must sleep for a little, and write over. Maybe, it`ll be more cheerful, more optimistic, at least.
   But for now, the sun is killing my love, make it the only fiction of imagination.
   I was born at midnight. My time is night. And, maybe, a morning dawn.
   Day and sun take me prisoner.
   The whole day I belong to duties, vanity of vanities. Night makes me free. If at day I belong to world, at night – worlds belong to me.
   You wrote me of magic. Oh, take it easy!
   That, I tried to do, is not magic – `so-so`. A childish toy, because of curiousity.
   As I understand: (as materialist not quite believing in magic, but accepting something unknown still) – to become a real magician, one must be able to refuse from this World – it`s connections, notions, relations, views, etc, and from Love – Love in broadest sense. Not outside, but inside oneself – to have reached some `absolute freedom`, i.e. one must go back from human essense. As an atheist, I think that the key of this problem in subconsciousness, i.e. one must have free one`s subconsciousness from influence of all (such as `vanity of vanities`) and have learned to control it, else one becomes a mad, goes off one`s head and has lost in Chaos.
   This is an interesting task, difficult to solve, but terrible too. i.e. as a curious atheist I would want to study that. But my second `half-me` is frightened of magic, because of she had looked into Chaos (abstractly). She knows God.
   /// There exist the common and united causation-connection-relation between all – everything, everyone, everysome, everyevery – through out the Space-Time-and-Some. There exist something saving our World from Chaos, what keeps it from dissolvation there in. – Maybe, this something or someone is called `God`?/// my understanding is too materialistic, maybe.
   Thus, these two `half-me` argue against each other, (always argue about all).
   Meanwhile the `third half-me` is looking at the sky and dreams. About Love (in `bradest` sense).
   She doesn`t care of magic, of subconsciousness, materialism, idealism, ability-possibility…
   But she sees the Colour of the Wind. She loves.
   From my heart to you – love.
   Lar
   P.S. I read over – черт ногу сломит! (idiom – devil will break his foot!)
   Do not be offended, please.
   /////

Letter 14
Aug`90

   Dear Brad, здравствуй!
   I`ve received your letter from 18.07.90.
   You write that you wrote a letter to me on 02.07.90. I must say that the one has not reached me. It is a pity. Moreover – there appeared a little anxiety. What about? – Simply – about middle of July my Father came to Ulan-Ude (now I`m in Academgorodok) to take conversation with me. The reason was funny at first.
   It was concerned with a `new idee-fixe` of mine that was about places `where the foot of man has never stepped`. // I cherished a hope to go away somewhere into fog, to wilds and live there. (Childish fantasy)// – In result – I `got it in the neck`.
   At the same time our conversation had concerned with our correspondence and policy. My Father does not prohibit, but… – in memory of his generation – too much of all, that was known for you, as you wrote `Great Empire`+ those years of `cold war` left its mark upon many things, – including `thinking of security services`… and he fears for me because of that. God forbid the letter to leave `there` – as a keepsake `for the time being`. Anything may happen. As you see I`m still under influence of that `cold shour`. Yet, I`m optimist. Enough of it.
   What about picture with your girlfriend – of course I`ll be glad to see the one. It is nice what you wrote of your Lady. I wish for you – heart-warmth, tenderness and mutual understanding. You must be happy. And, if your girlfriend feels jealosy, – however small, oh, please, tell her to take it (me) easy. I am призрак. Maybe after few years you will come here with your Lady. I`ll be glad to see both of you. And I think if we`ll write letters each other – we`ll find a common language.
   My best wishes to you and your Lady.
   With love – Larisa.
   P.S. For now I`m in Academgorodok, in hotel, slightly drunk, without dictionary. Excuse my language and mistakes. Please, write me on the address of my aunty.
   I hope the nearest years – policy will be warm. + I hope that your previous letter was not concerned with policy, or something about `empire`. Who knows what will happen tomorrow…
   Life is very interesting.
   I`m admiring of its surprices – every day. I`m lucky for adventuries.
   Good-night. Write.
   670000 CCCP, г. Улан-Удэ, ул.Борсоева 21 кв.54, мне.

Letter 15
Jan(?)`91

   Le silence eternel des ces espaces infinis m`effraye. (B.Pascal)
   Dear Brad, здравствуй!
   It has been far too long since your last letter.
   ..`Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December;
   And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.
   …..This it is and notning more…`
   What`s happened?
   Have you received my letters – epistles – made in mad country; manuscripts – having written under influence of frost-work on the pane, under – stars in wine – if to look through the glass. Letters – begotten by pine for summer`s moon at midnight, by pine for `pineapple-in-champagne`, by pain of soul and headache from newspapers, TV, PC, – you see – it`s not best motive power to write, to paint – such a painter gives only a pain in the neck! – am I right?
   If the only reason of your impressive pause is that – vos oreilles sont bien chastes… – I say – by golly: lasciva est nobis pagina, vita proba est! ~/bad in word not in deed/
   C`est sorti du coeur: j`ai pleure et j`ai cru…
   I hope that you are in good health, mood, safety, etc; that nothing terrible (besides my letters) has come on you.
   But maybe, my or your letters fell a victim to Russian Post Office. I read in newspaper about one shocking act of vandalism that occurred 6.01.91. in Moscow.
   If you can read Russ. with dict. – you can see what was. /Foreign letters (`from`) were opened, dumped and an excavator was `readily reading` /riding at them/ some people saved only part of them. Indeed – lapides clamabunt!
   One intelligent man said one day: `La liberte, pour faire le tour du monde, n`a pas besoin de passer par ici`. I agree with him.
   Another man – chinese phylosopher Confucy – said long ago: `there is no worse than to live in epoch of changes` (this is a questionable thought) – and one more guy said too: `that is the question`.
   So, while my (whole) country try to define – to be or not to be – life from bad to worse – letters from worse to bed – and I`m a living still witness, an optimistic accomplice, an enduring victim of this mass madness, called L`histoire de USSR.

   Thus, I`m sitting and writing, smoking and drinking (tea), my foot beats time of a playing music, and my hand writes it.
   Voila comme un ecrit l`histoire!
   Thus – contra spem spero – I hope to hear you, I wait. I miss your letters. I`m sad and bad without them.
   Say, at least, that you`re living.
   I worry about you. What`s happened?
   LAcRImoSA

Letter 16
29-30/01/91

   My dear friend, hello!
   Здравствуй, Бред!
   Thank you for your letter!
   How are you?
   As I can feel your letter – it`s painful for you.
   Dear Brad, don`t worry! Yes, I understand your pine for your Love. That always hurts, – and for a long time. But, – don`t despair of it. You must have lived out that.
   Time is cure-all. I know.
   Though, I`m not quite sure – it`s good or not (about cure-all) – when a living, bleeding wound becomes a painless, nice picture in memory; – it means, that one more bit of heart has died, one more drop of life has left us. Such is life. – The cost of life (real life) is suffering.
   Probably, I`m talking banality. If it seems to you so – oh, treat it with humour. But if you`re in no mood for laughter – look! – (devoted to you)
   The sun is shining brightly,
   The Earth is turning still.
   My friend, cheer up! – smile lightly!
   Forget your nightmare`s thrill.
   The spring will come tomorrow
   And bring with it the joy,
   And drive away your sorrow, -
   Don`t worry, dear boy!
   (it`s my second step in poetical English. From serial: `Learn to use English words`)
   What about me – I believe that happy dreams will come true too, that the spring will come soon and bring with it something wonderful, – new impressions, new life, new love – indeed, why not?
   My dear Sasha has returned from the Army. He was discharging this `sacred duty` during two years far away from home. I was worried about him, because nowadays are very uneasy for our country. I didn`t see him since 22.12.88. But soon he will be here. I`m so happy! I begin to knit sweater for him. I don`t like to knit, but for my brother – I`ll do all in my power. Do you have brother or sister?
   You write, that you maybe will not return to Canada. You don`t afraid of nostalgia for motherland? Do you ever feel homesickness? Do you miss your parents? What is your nationality? /if this notion exists in America./
   By the way, what is your native language – English or French? Mine is Buryat language, because I`m not Russian, I`m Buryat. But my second language (Russian) is native for me, even I know it better than the first, because my education (from the first class of school) was only in Russian. At home we usually talked at mixture of these both languages.
   The level of my English is the same.
   I can read and write (with dictionary), but to talk or to understand a living speech is difficult to me. I don`t have practice. When I try to translate any song from tape-recorder – I cannot understand all (at best). I`d like to know French or Spanish, but there is no time even to study English well. From letter to letter I`m going to begin studing seriously.
   One day I read an advertisement in a newspaper. It was something about `English – for 15 lessons`. I was too trustful and went there. And there – during two or three hours a whole crowd repeated:
   `One, two, three – I like tea,
   For, five – coffee I like…`
   I don`t know, how many people have counted up to 75… yet, I still hope to find lessons. Now I read `Alice in Wonder-Land`. My second book after `Winnie-the-Pooh`. Do you like these books? But I prefer `Alice…` in Russian translation.
   Here is such a fun situation – one man has fallen in love with my person. But to his regret, we are relations in fourth generation – I think it`s not enough for marriage, but not prohibited by law. I wonder, what will be the happy-end of this `long and sad tail`. I treat it with humour. But maybe, this autumn there will occur our wedding. Why not?
   I`ll send you invitation, at any case.
   And for now – до встречи! So long.
   Write me – with love – Larisa.
   Don`t worry. Look at the starry sky. Smile to the star!
   P.S. in your previous letter was about audio-tape with your voice. Oh, please, if you can, send it. It would be fine. Though, I`m not sure that it will get my home. And I`ll try to do the same.
   (third step):
   You have received the letter
   From mocking girl, (from `red`)
   Who wants that you are better,
   When you have read this «бред».
   Today I feel a poetical inspiration. :)
   I am so glad
   To be so bad
   It is my fad
   Because I had
   A little `mad`
   When I was tad.
   You are still sad?
   Don`t worry, Brad!
   Good bye!
   Don`t cry!
   Bye-bye! Etc. :)
   Don`t forget, good-bye!
   ///

Letter 17
Sept`91.

   Dear brad, здравствуй!
   I wrote you letter from 20.08.91. but now I think it`s all right. I`m very happy, that we can continue our friendship.
   How it was terrible – those three days. I thought that there will be a civil war. Terrible.
   But now I`m going to China to conference. But our administration prohibites. They found many reasons that I cannot go there. But I`m fighting. If all will be all right, 13-14 September I`ll be in China. In a bad case – I do not know – what will happen with me.
   How are you? What have you been doing? Where are you going?
   Write me, I am waiting for you and your letters. My kiss and love.
   Don`t forget.
   Maybe, next year I`ll be in Japan. It is possible. Now I am free. Here is my picture for the passport. I`m 25 this summer. My birthday July 7,1966.
   When is yours?
   I`m dancing with you. I see your eyes, I touch your lips.
   My mind is crazy as always. Send me your pictures, please.
   Гори, гори, моя звезда.
   Звезда любви, приветная.
   Ты у меня одна заветная.
   Другой не будет никогда …. (Russian song)
   So long. Larisa.

Letter 18
15-16.10.91

   Dear Brad, здравствуй!
   I`m very-very glad to see you again, but, – what a pity – only on the pictures. Yet, fine.
   You look very well. (I would fall in love with such a young handsome boy as you.) I like your pictures. Moreover – я тащусь с них. (sl.)
   By the way, yes, certainly I understand that age is quickly forgotten under the cover of night or under another cover, but nevertheless, – how old are you? 20-21?
   You look so youthful, about 15 still. No? – I`m sorry.
   Send more pictures. (if you so like – nude, roentgenogram, others, etc, :) )
   Child of July, I agree with you that there exist something special, maybe, strange in souls of those born in this best month. According to the horoscope they need a sincere affection and love greater than others.
   Irony of fate – my first love was born in J21. Our `common birthday` was usually selebrated in J14! Indeed it was so. Much water has flowed under bridge since then. Pain + memory have calmed down…
   But suddenly, about month ago I had met him in a business trip, such unexpectedly.
   It was like an exploding of a bomb.
   Shock, chaos, anguish and bitter regret about irreparableness. Terrible nostalgia. Sometimes I suspect that my life is not more than such a spiteful and senseless joke of the Creator.
   Sometimes there appear dreary thoughts, melancholy, that develops into pseudo-philosophical estrangement, lofty sadness and so on – at last, it turns into a firm decision to leave off smoking and begin a `new-life`.
   For example, tomorrow I begin `the-new-life` with a cold shower and, maybe, a little running.
   But now I`m smoking, because I`m writing letter to you.
   It is tradition – to write at night with cigarettes and music. Now Patricia Caas is singing.
   Your letter has torn me out of the highest peak of that philosophy of decadance and has taken me to another world – to a lightful reality of adventures and romance, the starry sky and somnambulistic flights. Tonight is a full moon. If I was a witch I `d fly through this phantasmal moonlight until my heart wouldn`t explode…
   I`ll become a magicion, if I`ll live to an old age. I `d want the first. Now in CCCP it `s a mass passion for such things. There appear hundreds knewly-made witch-doctors, extrasenses, magicians. Not long ago it was prohibited because of Marxist theory denied even existance of it.
   But now, every second one imagine oneself to be a `voodoo` (shaman), not exclusive me. I saw many of those. But my power is stronger. :)
   Why am I talking such a nonsense, instead of words of Love, for example.
   I`m not magician still, so I cannot be closer to you than now. But I see you, I feel you. And I want you to be here.
   I` m looking at your pictures and feast my eyes on them. You have many japanese friends.
   Do you have japanese girl-friend?
   I see lovely girls on the pictures. Who are they, these your friends? Students? I admire of a high quality of these pictures, and young fine faces.
   I see… you smoke! «Why do you destroy yourself?» Don`t you know that only one drop of nicotine can kill a horse? What is your position about Bacchus. I like sometimes, just a little, less than little, a sma-a-allest drop, particularly when I have essued goods my strong-drink-talon. It happens once a month.
   Do you know what means `talon`? – it `s not money, it `s a small scrap of paper, thanks to that one (sometimes) can buy something (eatable-drinkable-smokable). Yes, life of Soviets is beyond description, it must be felt. But I`m not complaining. It`s a bitter grin, irony.
   But is it not interesting to live in such a great, historical epoch and to be a living eye-witness of all these commotions? Our life is slalom, or, maybe, ski-jumping. Cross-country race – cross-race country – it is about us too…
   Our adored red flag became tricoloured, our queues become longer and more indignant, our demagogues still build a bright-future (for themself), my English is lame in the both legs still too.
   In other respects – life is life.
   `Objective reality given to us as senses`, not always pleasant.
   I prefer another reality called «Бред» (or Brad?).
   It `s more real than many things, at least, more desired, because I never tired of that. That world of imagination, this dialog with a stranger through the night saves me from this viscous and all-devouring mire called vanity of vanities.
   Brad, it `s so wonderful, that you exist in my life, in my heart. So wonderful!
   I`d like to see you here.
   But you are so far, – too far…
   Strange story. Incredible. But wonderful. I`m waiting for your reply. Eagerly. I`m waiting for you. Come sooner.
   Your friend – Larisa.
   /// P.S. When we`ll meet, let`s go to a dancing. All my friends are `too old to dance`, they are `serious people`. We`ll be a good dance-couple, ne?
   Write me, Бред.

Letter 19
2.11.91

   Dear Brad, hello!
   How are you? What are you doing now?
   I am not clairvoyant, but it seems to me that you have not received my letter from 20.08.91, because I`ve found it in my own table, between my papers. I`m sorry. I was so absent-minded. But it `s better that it was not sent. Such letters shouldn`t be sent. If they are read on a frontier as it was B.G. (before Gorbachev) then in cases, like above… who knows… it would be bad.
   Don `t wait for it.
   Let me tell you about it from the sight of nowadays. Feelings of those days – commotion, despair, pain and fear, and much of others, mixed, – terrible foreboding of the greatest evil, – all the feelings left there.
   Now I can say – it was a putsch.
   That was not unexpected for majority of us – it was foretelling by different people – astrologers, shamans, old ladies in queues, children in sand-boxex.
   So, we met august 19 as any outstanding event. Outstanding becomes daily in our -------
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country of evergreen tomatos.
   There were not: mass actions of protest, strikes, barricades, etc in our city. There was a general sullen silence. There were glad smiles of reactionaries and those lost possessions of their faculties.
   There was panic among businessmen and democrats.
   Everybody made ready for something:
   Somebodies preparied dried crusts: (for conc.camps);
   Somebodies tried to find any weapon,/ prices on that were too high,/
   Somebodies made `black lists`, and so on.
   Our local government bodies laughed on the sly and congratulated each other, falling into reveries about restoration of the `quiet life` .
   Their attempts to hold people in a state of ignorance was unsuccessful – telegraph, telephones, telefaxes were working continiously, and their reports was immediately delivered to the restaurant `Bargusin`, where there was `the last drinking bout` of those people whose financial state guaranteed them a free ticket in goods wagon to Magadan (conc.camp) and a long indefinite leave for such a health-giving work on the fresh-air as felling trees.
   Other people were over modest and more sober. A real fight began after Aug23, in leadership, for their places. Each of them was `in the first runks, shed own blood on the all barricades, fell under-upon tanks with grenades`, and so on.
   It presented a sorry spectacle.
   What about me, I had known about it later than others, because I do not have a harmful habit to watch TV or other screen besides of working time.
   What was first feeling? It must be expressed only by unprintable Russian words. Russian is genious language in this sense.
   I didn`t dry crusts, I was sitting and listening hard-rock and Mozart, and created crazy rhymes, strokes on foolish theme, on abstract theme, etc.
   I was not fighter.
   I was a very sad smoker, and `looker` at the seiling. My dreary thoughts were about 1937-38 years.
   These were terrible years, a great terror, mass repressions.
   Millions (!!!) of guiltless people were shot or were left to rot in gaols and concentration camps. It could be repeated now if they won. It would be much of blood and tears.
   My grandfather and his brothers and many other relations were shot at that time as class enemies.
   My grandmother, who lived every day under the threat of arrest and shooting, – she saved two little sons of her sister, whose family was dying in conc.camp.
   I heard about that in childhood, from parents, – in my family we had one legend about my grandfather. He was shot in 1938, because he was a son of the great Shaman (voodoo). My father was prematurely born after 10 days after his arrest, doomed to die, but survived. Brother of my grandfather was arrested long before him and was condemned to death, but in Middle Asia – he was a doctor – he was sent to cure people from bubonic plague. Nobody saw him after that. Only there was found somebody`s dead body with his documents. It was in the beginning of 1930th. Then – in 70th we had a news in our family that in America there was a man with our surname – professor. KGB was check about our family and we, being children were told – never say too much at home, because of `bags`. We were looking for bags in our flat – it sounded fun for children.
   My father dreamed that that man was his father. Not shot but survived.
   Because my grandmother received money from America on her name after Stalin`s death, but, being called from KGB, she refused to received them. That is – indeed, he was either my grandfather or his brother. All these documents must be in KGB`s archives.
   I want to investigate that sooner or later. And maybe to find his descendants if they exist. It`s in my far-far plans…
   So it goes… Maybe I had an American grandfather..Who knows..
   So – we all knew smth besides official History, in every family was such story about that time, but never we heard it in the school, or on TV, nothing about it was in books.
   It was described as a heroic struggle of soviet people for formation of `bright communistic future`. I believed in Communism with all power of my soul. It was my God.
   Now, in epoch of publicity too many, who were silent B.G. – too much people are abusing Socialism, Marx, Lenin, etc. Venerable intriguers, who made their career by quoting-citing of Marx and Lenin, now are vilifying these names, and others, – (vilifying) those people who, indeed, believed in bright future and build it at the cost of their lives, who wanted to make us happy and free. They were pure.
   I do not know, why my country is so tragical, or it`s damned? Why nowadays have happened `such-so`?
   I do not know how simple soviet people will live out this winter? – but people have nine lives like a cat.
   People will – live, laugh, love, drink, dream, watch TV, read newspapers, etc.
   Such many interesting in our newspapers apear nowadays – about witches, aliens, UFO, extrasenses, parallel worlds, such many people saw, heard, contacted with UFO and were in other worlds, that I think – either it`s true or it`s a mass mental disorder from such`interesting` life or attempts to draw away our attention from difficulties of transitional period from developed socialism to `some-ism`.
   Such is our life. `Objective reality, given to us in sense`, as Marx said one day.
   Now I`m going to open my own business, though I have a good job with good money.
   I want to open atelier of woman dress, at the beginning. Some girls, my friends, agreed with me and I`m thinking about formalities and other official things.
   So, I am busy and have no time for dreary thoughts. I have new friends here. Interesting people are around me. I love people. I love to be the center of any circle, as now. I love my cousins who are about 20, I am for them – an old and wise, though I feel myself more younger.
   Brad, how old are you? Your birthday July 14. Fine! I suspected that you were born in July. One week between us. And 4 years. And thousand miles.
   Tell me, please, something from your real life or from life of your country or Japan or capitalism or etc.
   When you`ll come here? In 1993, how long.
   Not only I, all my cousins, friends, brothers want to see you. They like you very much, on the pictures. They say `What a handsome boy!`
   Do you like to play cards or chess and other games? I`d like to know something about you. Now – are you studing or working? Where are you studing? Who are you? And many-many questions. I`ve finished. With love – Larisa.
   P.S. It`s deep night, the page finished, I want to say about my waiting your letter or yourself. Have you received my letter from 1?.10.91. I`m waiting. – Love and kiss from Lariss.
   То, что стелется, – туман,
   А не река.
   И волна его растает,
   Как тоска.
   То, что реет, – это дым,
   а не крыло.
   он редеет – и становится
   светло.
   То, что мучит, – не душа,
   А только сон.
   И все темное развеется,
   Как он.
   (Хименес)
   ///

Letter 20
Now 3 `91

   Dear Brad, hello!
   Don`t wonder, here is me again. I`m writing letter to you in a state `под шaфэ` – this russ.slang means `I am drunk`, not too much, but quite for me to write this letter without dictionary. So you can see the level of my English.
   What will be the speech about? – I don`t know.
   Yesterday I`ve written the letter to you, that will be sent with this one. Why? –
   It`s , maybe, my favourite thing to do, my letters, not only for you, I write every day to all my friends, living in different cities.
   Brad, do you believe in God still?
   Sorry, but I`m atheist, moreover, I`m materialist, so I am afraid of Death. Not such afraid, but I do not believe in immortal soul.
   Human is mortal, sometimes suddenly mortal, as said one of my favourite hero of Bulgakov. Do you read Russian writers? One day, in the train, on my question about it, you began to enumerate some English or American writers. I did not understand at that time what were the names, but I like some American writers – M.Twain, D.London, E.Hemingway, T.Draiser, E.Poe, etc. I am not sure that I write these sur-names correctly.
   It lookes as questionnaire, т.е. анкета, do you have Russian-English dictionary? May I write you some strokes in my native language, in Russian, though I`m not Russian. Will you understand?
   I`d like to see your world, your life. Now I have quite money to do it. Maybe this year I`ll be in Japan as a tourist. But vouchers to Japan is very-very rarely. This year I want to be abroad, maybe, in Europe. I want to see a real capitalism. In September I had to be in China, but it was failed. I had no time to form my documents. Can you send an invitation from Japan? I think that you are foreigner in this country, so my travel will not be.
   Please, tell me some stories about this wonderful country. Are you a citizen of Japan or not? Are you going to live there all your life? What is your future? In your dreams – who are you?
   F.e. I`m unlucky mathematicion, now I`m programmist and, just a little, magicion.
   My dream – моя мечта надменна и проста, – I want to be a psychologist of NLP, I was occupied with that in my student years. I had a teacher.
   Now I am alone, but continue to make experiments upon myself and others.
   Do you know what is NLP?
   My teacher gave me books of Karlos Kastaneda (about magia) too.
   And sinse then I`m mad about this theme. In my family there were such people, – magicions. NLP and magia, and many other occult things are concerned in the main point. All the things in the subconsciousness of the people. If one wants to develop it, he will be either mad or indeed something extraordinary. For example, if you look at somebody, can you from the first sight define the date of his death?. ///
   I feel – something unexplainable is always around us. Unexplainable for materialist, who I am.
   My brother can see the past of men, I want to see the future – I cannot. You may – not read this chaos.
   Why I am writing it? Because you`re my best `friend through the correspondence of letters`.
   Can you imagine that I`ll be able to be in Japan? I`ll be your guest, maybe.
   Can you imagine – I`ve finished to smoke – just after my last letter to you. I think, 2 weeks ago.
   But if we`ll meet, I`ll smoke some cigarettes, and maybe drink something. What kind of drink-things do you prefer? I like kognak. I like to drink with music and in a bad weather – rainy or snowy, in a warm company or with beloved one.
   Now I remember my last business trip – I`d met my real loved man. We were drinking and talking. I had seen that he is old and such defenceless. `Old` means 32. Some days I adored him, he was my God, but now – our roles exchanged. But the only bitterness of that. It was my real love. I was waiting for him all my life, but he was married, and now, he has a child.
   It seems to me, that I`m confessing, maybe. Such is my mood. To tell you that.
   My stranger, but my near man.
   What will you do, if you`ll have seen your Michelle? – I do not know, what happen that you and she apart. I think that life has many insidious things for those who is fallen in love.
   If you`ll come here sooner than I to Japan, I`ll invite you to the restaurant. Our restaurants are very bad, but nevertheless, we`ll have a good evening. I`ll introduce you to my future husband. Yes, I`m going to marry.
   It`s not from the heart, – such is life.
   He is very respectable, very famous in our city, a `rising star` in business circles, `millionaire and the dream of all spinsters`. He has fallen in love with my dearest person. He devotes me his life and deeds. A whole year I`ve been thinking about it. I was hesitating, but this autumn, that hopeless meeting with my forever loved man…
   In August will be my wedding. My God! What am I doing?!
   But I do not see way out, because I respect him, – but nothing else. Тупик!
   It`s such a weakness from my side. I cannot hurt somebody. But usually that weakness has a very sad end. I hate myself. I feel this summer will be a great scandal. And I`ll leave this city. Broken and tired.
   But now –
   I have about a year to live quietly. One year I`ll be writing letters to you about my love, about putsches, about cross-race country, one year I`ll be dreaming about dance under that forever starry sky, one year I`ll be free and crazy, one year… and then –
   Either I`ll go to Novosibirsk or leave here as a good wife of a good man.
   Sad story. Very sad story. I want to smoke, but not to smoke. It`s night. Our `supermarkets` are closed. The weather is dreary. My mood is suicidal. I am crazy…
   Dance, under the starry sky,
   forever starry and with a stranger
   – forever young…
   Я с тобой танцевать буду в Вене
   В карнавальном наряде реки,
   В домино из воды и тени…
   Brad, if you are not terrified still, write me about something lightful. I am dying. All is vanity of vanities. Send me your pictures. I cannot do it, because, can you understand, shortage of reagents for fotograph.
   Have you received my parcel to you, album about the lake Baikal?
   Reply on this crazy letter!
   With love – Larisa.
   P.S. It would be interesting to receive letter from you in the same mood, i.e. write me `под шафэ`. :)

Letter 21
14.11.91.

   Dear Brad, hello!
   Today is a simple day, without anything unusual. I read some newspaper, and decided to send you pages from one of many.
   Why? Maybe, because of – you read my letters and my stories cannot give you more complete view about `Great Empire`.
   What is happening around – sometimes seems to me that `s nightmare. My city is most quiet than many regions of CCCP, but…
   When I`m reading newspapers or watching TV – I begin to fall in depression and despair.
   How long it will drag on? What and when will be the end of these terrible things? Where can one find any courage and optimism, – one can endure it no longer.
   Today my mood is very dark. Heart hangs heavy, because of newspapers (not because my own life, I`m quite well).
   If one more putsch or any revolution will happen soon – I promise – I`ll describe you that.
   If you`re not bored with my letters still, full of black humour and `yellow fever` – I`ll be writing to you quite often without waiting for reply, because of… forebodings…
   Anything may happen.
   I want to leave something after me. For you – it will be – letters. Many-many. Do not forget that there lived me – unce upon a time…
   It`s too pessimistic.
   Such is our life. Such is my mood.
   I`m tired. Your mood is falling too? – it`s my great service…
   Maybe, to tell you some anecdotes?
   *** One (drunk) student comes into classrom and asks with a tipsy voice: `Professor, can you examine one drunk student?`
   Professor: `Hm, only because of eccentric situation`.
   Student: `Guys! Carry him in!`
   *** One cow is climbing on the tree. Another asks her:
   –why are you climbing on the tree?
   – I want to eat apples!
   – but it`s a palm-tree!
   – I`m not fool! I`ve taken apples with me.
   *** One Chukchi-man is standing on the shore and scolding in an indignant tone:
   –Idlers! Loafers! Spongers! Parasites! skinflints! Etc
   Another one asks him: why do you scold?

   They are skinflints! Ragamuffins! They bought Alaska – but for Chukotka – they`ve not enough money?!!

   Forget, forget my mood. (here is my words to myself)/ I`m smiling. Best of all –reading book. All is momentary, but there exist something immortal. – books – words and thoughts of those who were real people. People, not crowd.
   Did you read Bulgakov `Master and Margarita`? I love this book. I can read it from any page.
   Not long ago one woman promissed me to find (very rare in CCCP) a book – Baudelaire. I want so much to buy it. I`m gathering my library. Not very big, but my favourite writer and poets. Now it`s easy, but expensive. I have money to do it.
   Letter is ending. Don`t answer on it. Only feel it, understand, if it not bother you. Lar

Letter 22
12Nov`91

   Hello, my dear stranger!
   Dear Brad, здравствуй!
   I`m glad to meet you in your letter from 25.10.91
   Mой милый малыш –
   I see you wrapped in your towel, with cigarette in your fingers – a young handsome -------
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man from american erotic films. You `re fascinating, sir! (in your erotic letterJ).
   Indeed, your letter is not from boy, but from man. One, who could be my Lover, maybe, not only in letters. I return to you kiss in written form.
   When I `ve read lines about to `make love`, I `ve remembered one funny story. 3 or 4 years ago there was a `tele-bridge` Moscow-Tokyo, i.e. videocast, open dialog between soviet and japanese women. They asked questions each others about many things.
   Of course, our women made a creditable showing. One question from Japanese side was: `What about sex in CCCP?` and `the illustrious reply` – one soviet woman, very venerable and respectable, deputy and laureate of something, – she answered with dignity: `There is no sex in CCCP at all!` – it was said with such a great pride, in such a peremptory tone, as if she was insulted in her best feelings, – both sides, both countries split their sides with laughter.
   What about `sex` in Japan? In Canada? In your life?
   What is your attitude to the weaker sex? I see not only Platonic.
   If you do not want to concern with this theme, if you consider me as an `enfant terrible`, – excuse me, but it`s your beginning and I`m only developing the theme farther. Such is dialectics of developments. What farther?
   Imagine – our letters, saturated with `sexiness`, smoke, wine, lipstick, perfume, etc. Love through the correspondence of letters. Oathes and promises, jealousy and tears, breathes and kisses, disclosures and repentance, and again oathes and promises, etc, all in writing form. And happy-end. How it` s good, that mankind has invented a written language.
   Forgive me if my irony hurts you. My laughter at myself – and only! I know – irony is weakness, but I belong to a weaker sex. Irony is a harm habit, a defensible mask. Any mask involves a -------
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game. But is not our life game? Or contrary – game is life. Game of chance. Nobody wins in the end.
   (Oh, Baby, what can I do – I`ve been thinking about you… – now it`s playing this song of `London beat` (or hit?)). This tape for my morning exersices after daily cold shower. Let`s change this sad theme. – `I`ve been thinking about you…` (pleasant boys sing…)
   How often we depend of melody playing nearly.
   Now I`ve changed a tape, listen to `Queen`, my favourite tape.. the vocalist is wonderful. I love English and American rock, and jazz, because of music, what concern to words – I prefer russian songs. Not because of russians are best, but because I don`t understand english – either they sing too quickly or indistinctly or maybe, records are bad, or ears.
   So, to read and write I prefer in Russian. And speak too. I adore to play with words, notions, phrases, and paraphrases. It` s from my student`s life. We often played in `burime` – creating rhymes around circle of friends. We all were rhymesters – I think all Russians write rhymes – I never met smb who didn`t do it in youth, maybe, because «Поэт в России больше чем поэт» (и почти не меньше чем гражданин) J //= poet in Russia is more than poet (even, maybe, not less than a simple citizen).// In short: rules of burime are so – everyone takes a big list of paper, writes 2 strokes then gives it to his left-neighbour, and takes the same page with 2 strokes from right-neighbour. Then each of them must finish gotten writing – another 2 strokes rhymed with above. Then he closed these 4 strokes folding paper, write new 2 stroke below, prolonging his thought, and gives it further – this repeating till page is over. Very amusing game! Usually we played by 5-6 boys and girls. Nobody sees what was a speech about – above opened last strokes, – and creates his own `poetry`. (It reminds me smth – of history – in general J) Very funny, sometimes genious rhymes we created by our cheerful crowd. How I want to return there, to my friends… I am bored here. Though here I have friends too, many relations, all my uncles and aunts live here. But –
   Such emptiness, heartache…
   There is no love, no hope, no peace in my mind. I want to tear up myself from this mire while my soul not becomes ptomain. In russian there exist words – ДУША and ТУША. ДУША means soul, ТУША means hulk, bulk.
   Душа рвется, туша дергается… the most sad story that may happen with human – it`s – if ДУША becomes ТУША., and begin to live in the world of the second one. Instead of `to feel` – only `to feed`. Maybe, such is life.
   Yes, now is `such`.
   Now our people have abundance of the first about shortage of the second. (I mean `to feel` and `to feed`).
   Long-suffering soviet nation. Indeed, cross-race country – if it`s correctly built phrase, that was born during my studying English, accidently, when I was writing letter to you. That time I meant `cross` as `irritated, exasperated`, and (now) `cross` as `crusified`. I cannot feel correctness of this paraphrase. Is it right or not? Please, answer.
   It`s so difficult to paint being daltonian. The only I can – to believe to my dictionary.
   Now I am waiting for your letters. Every day I phone to my cousin or she comes here with a happy smile and your letter. You` re known to my cousins. Your pictures are in front of my books. And all my guests admire of quality of them. You` re standing nearly/with my favourite writers and poets – Brad, Bulgakov, Pushkin, Lermontov, Gumilev, Tsvetaeva, Balmont, Chekhov, Dostoevsky, Pasternak, etc – I love all of them. Sometimes I read over and over your letters and I see –
   The lake, where we`re walking. Where it is situated? – in Russia? In Canada? In Japan? Somewhere – in the early morning mist, maybe, in fourth dimention, – but it exist as the `fifth element`. And it`s waiting for two dreamy strangers, who come there under the cover of night, until the last star on the sky becomes dim.
   Yes, They return – with the first sunbeam, – each to an own dawn. (particularly in winter J)
   Indeed, we have created a `parralel world` – only our. Fairyland of my heart. The last childish play.
   This parallel world, our dance under the starry sky, Color of the Wind… – I love you in this world.
   It`s not usual feeling, not like violent passion (I`m cold in life), but… but my analytical and ironical mind couldn`t explain it even in Russian.. it exist without explanation.
   Don`t be offended, please, but I often compare you with my first lover. Diametrically opposite ones – even in literal sense, but, indeed, – `there exist something special…` – one leaves and forever, in the Past, another lives, maybe, forever, in the `parallel world`.
   I cannot touch neither remembrance nor dreams. Both of them exist(!) inside of me – subjective reality given to me as feelings (in sixth feelings, -------
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)
   `A highest brain work`. The play of neurons. (I like to play with own neurons, – not only with own, not only with neurons).
   Now I`ve read all over again. This mess will be before you. I`m sorry if it is too so-and-so. Feci quod potui, faciant meliora potentes, ceterum censeo carthaginem esse delendam J.
   My kiss to you, `much-much`
   With smile – Larisa.

Letter 23
Now 18`91

   Dear Brad, здравствуй!
   Your letter has reached me so quickly. Few days ago I sent off two letters to you, day by day. The last was too dark. I shouldn`t send it. Forgive. Alas, what cannot be cured…
   First of all let me say about `nude photograph`. Didn`t you feel my ironical smile: `..send… if you so like – nude, rentgenograph, etc` – means that the first wouldn`t be more pertinent than the second, i.e. X-rayd/rentgenograph. Don`t consider me as `over-free`, I`m shy as you – and here I remember that you `have a well-shaped body, that will be a wedding gift for your wife`. Let it`ll make happy and belongs only to wife. (maybe not only your ownJ)
   Take my words easy – I never speak seriously!
   Too much of humdrum around – let`s laugh and love.
   I had boy-friend too, in Novosibirsk. Long ago. We`re part. Here I have an `official fiance`. I`m stuck in such an `enviable` situation – one of the `brilliant` men of the city has fallen in love with my over-modest person, became `my slave` (I hope not Spartak). He is interesting man, too famous, too sick and sharming too. Very-very clever, but alas, – so, so `pachydermatous`. I respect his great intellect, but what a pity! – he is short (his height as mine = 170). What a shortage! But in other respects he is a `star`. (Alas, not `starry-eyed`).
   He adores me – I adore high heels. Next august must be our wedding.
   I often think, maybe, it`s too hasty decision. I do not love him. But I have burned all bridges behind me.
   Nowhere to go… Nobody waits me besides shadows. In the end of all – I`m player who has nothing to lose. Whose stake – own life, whose prize – rainbow, that cannot be gripped.
   My brother Sasha is in Novosibirsk, in Academgorodok now. If he`ll find me a job – this summer I`ll leave Ulan-Ude forever. If not, I`ll become the `head of the family`. Sasha doesn`t want me to be wife of Michail (his name).
   Will you come here if I`ll be the wife of a jealousy man? Your pictures irritate him, make him less significant in own eyes, because you`re `American`.
   We`ll be dancing under the starry sky and under his supervision, ne? (or KGB`s?)
   You`ll have a good time here – the Lake Baikal, fishing, drinking, shooting, drinking, dancing, drinking, etc, drinking… – such is a `cultural program` just for all foreigners here. Such an impression that foreigners come here only to drink Russian-vodka.
   Now Ulan-Ude is open city. You`ll be living in our firm hotel or in my flat. Wellcome, please.

   You write that your girl-friend knows that one day you`ll say `good-bye` to her. It sounds too cruel. What is her and your attitude to that? Is it impassible? It cannot be! You`ll leave a trauma in her soul, I think. Impossible to be impassible. You said good-bye to your loved Michelle one day? Left her with a pain in her soul, but without pity? What a mysterious-mischievous man`s soul! `Playboy` means boy who plays with women?
   Are you playing in love, with love, by love – what is correctly?
   I`m not going to pour forth my sentiments and sententions in a torrent of eloquence, but… -
   Life is so short… (vita brevis – capre diem!:) )
   I think we`re worthy to understand each other.
   My Michail is afraid to loose=to lose me. He`ll do all in his power to make me happy. (he says so.) But happiness is not only money. Happiness is – …
   What do you think – what is happiness?
   To love and be loved? It`s too seldom…
   I`d be glad to fall in love with my Michail, but I cannot. It is not depend of my mind.
   I feel sorry for both of us. I cannot make happy neither myself nor somebody.
   You think of me bad?
   Let`s talk about non-sense.
   F.e. : periodically I throw smoking and begin to go in for sports. Not long ago I`ve strained my tendon. It was an unlucky attempt to make the split. Can you make it? What is your success in Aikido? How far to black-belt?
   Tell me something about you – not whole life – but something.
   Why did you choose Japan to live? Why not another country – f.e. England, France, RussiaJ?
   It`s good that one can choose any country to live. Now in CCCP people got the right to live in otherlands and thousands and millions are running away – away from a dying empire, away from a bleeding, suffering motherland. As rats – off from a sinking ship.
   I do not condemn them. But who will live here and build a bright future for us if not we-self?
   Many of my friends in Novosibirsk think `only to get to America`. But what a happiness is waiting them there – in a strange country, world, culture and language?
   For a while – it`s interesting, but for ever – to lose own roots, own language, own nation, – nation that is not most poor – in spiritual sense I think, maybe, one of the greatest.
   Here is my patriotism.
   I believe in greatness of my (soviet) nation, nevertheless. Here`ll be Harmony and Peace. It`s my last Belief, not lost still.
   My tone becomes too pathetic? It happens sometimes. Yes, sometimes I fall in pathetic, moreover, in (passive) altruism. And begin to love whole humanity, Platonically.
   There appear a wish to do something in the name of somewhat, to lead some masses to somewhere, to devote own life to some great purposes, to give own life, blood, breath for all mankind and – here – amicus Plato, sed magis amica est veritas – I shift myself into more cosy pose, pour a cup of tea, take a cigarette and begin – `to suffer in the name of all mankind`
   As a result – in the morning I have cubic-metres of rhymes and a `squared-head` (in Russian slang means headache).
   But every morning I take a cold shower and become an ice-lady.
   From my ice-heart to you – smile.
   Larisa.
   P.S. Is it difficult to live in `capitalism`? Last time I began to think about…f.e. – if I was there for a time, could I live there with my `socialistic views`? to work for any time? How could I do it? Rouble is falling every day. 1$=110 roubles (the last price). Please, answer. Is it possible to find job there?

Letter 24
Dec`91

   Dear Brad, здравствуй!
   I `ve received both of your letters today.
   So I`ll reply day by day, according to dates.
   I wonder, did you received my `political letter` about August days or it`s detached?
   My reply on letter from 24.11.91.
   You`re made a quite competent review about sex. I see the subject is well-known to you. Now –
   Sex in CCCP: My generation was growing up under influence of such a foolish ideology : `There is no sex in CCCP`!
   `Sex` was taboo. But birth-rate was not decreasing. Each knows, but nobody says. We`re too infantil in question of relationship of sexes. We saw films of `high moral standards`, we read books about `spiritual searchings`; a nude body made us blush with shame. But we knew many anecdotes and so on `about it`. The word `sex` was concerned with something shameful, dirty. Though, maybe, it`s only my impression. – No, not only mine.
   One fun story about `sex` happened once in our student`s hostel. One girl of first year studing came home from skating-ring very late. And she got wrong with her floor or maybe with direction. She opened door in `her` room and begin to wear off without switching on the lamp. Three astonished boys were contemplating her `striptease` in limpid darkness and silence. At last, standing in underwear, she said with dreamy voice: `Oh, girls! If I could have sex right now…` – and reply: `Oh, with pleasure!` – she ran off room – horror-stricken, with clothes in arms, without skates. And long after that there was an advertisement on the door of our dinner-house: `GIRL! WHO LEFT SKATES IN ROOM # !!! please come and take them back! We`re waiting for you!` J She didn`t return… :)
   Now I see – O, tempora! O, mores! – CCCP makes a `sexual revolution`. Too much of pornography, nude organs in movies, in magazines; much of any `practical advices` in book-shops. Russia has seized upon this forbidden fruit, and feeds it, abuses by it -without any measures.
   In my life: I admire of that you`re not embarrassed to say about such a delicate materia. I`m `homo soveticus` in this.
   I`d rather tell you anecdote about it:
   Two british gentlemen are sitting before the fire-place in Christmass, and talking.

   – I love Christmass, – said one.
   – I prefer (to make) sex, – said another.
   – But Christmass occurs more often, – replies the first one.

   (I`m one of them J) merry Christmass to you!
   By the way, what means `masterbate`? I cannot find it in dictionary. Is it from the word `master`? or… – I hope, it`s not `masturbate`?
   Though, maybe, it`s accepted there, in your land. Here is not done. At least, to say about it. And, in general, about sex too, particularly, in letters. I had not great experience (i.e. practice) in sex. (but inborn talent+sense of rhytm+feline plasticity – can make happy my husband or jazz-band J)
   I could be a good dancer as one of my aunts who was a soloist in one of the famous dance-group here. She was a star! Now she`s old, but what a body! What a plasticity! I admire of her. If I`ll have a daughter, she`ll be a dancer. What a pity that one day I entered to univercity and now I am a bad mathematicion, hardly remembering `measure, norm and limit` (main notions in math.an.)
   But I`m not bluestocking, in spite of Puritan upbringing. Homo sum, humani nihil a me alienum puto!
   If you`ll come here only `to make love to me`, explain, please, what means `to make love`. If to translate it to Russian literally, that means as if `technical side` of sex.
   So it goes. American Don-Juans are travelling around the world, seducing Japanese women. But in Russia – `no pasaran`!
   Do you know that for most Russian women the word `sex` is intimately related with the word `marriage` – as an integral whole.
   `What do I think?` – how know?
   `What do I like?` – know how!
   I feel – our letters, that were flying in sphere beyond the clouds, make a soft landing upon something soft (as pillows).
   About `toy` – I hope that you`re a strong gentleman, not `soft-toy`
   `The lake dream` – Mysterious mist.
   `Once upon a time`. – I always remember you as boy with such serene and pure eyes! – such wonderful, lightful eyes, sad and mischievous.
   Who are you now? I want to see you. To smile to you. To talk with you. How I`m sorrowed that you`re foreigner; that you do not know my language. If we had the same native language, we could get more enjoy from each other. But, from another side – all sharm is, maybe, in that – we are strangers for each other.
   Yet, I`ve already got accustomed to you in my life – you become my `nearest and dearest`, in spite of all.
   My nearest and dearest stranger…
   I like how the word `stranger` sounds. As if – fingers have touched, – run over the strings of a harp and sounds are dying away, – sinking in the heart of hearts.
   My dearest stranger – as voice from nowhere, I return to you a faint echo of my feeling from the beyond. – That belongs to you as rainbow on the sky.
   I do not have phone at home, only next year, in other flat, maybe. I couldn`t talk with you because of 2:

   Our phone-lines are too bad – poor audibility.
   To understand English – I must listen to a living speech – in appearance. About audio-tape – good idea, but you are right in your distrust with R.P. Office. However, I`d like to hear your voice.

   About dollars: What a strange idea has come on you?!!
   You decided to participate in giving a `humanitarian help` to soviet people or you want to pay me an ` author`s emolument`? – my dear Philanthropist and Maecenas, please, don`t worry about me. I`m not dying of hunger. I feel a great anger because my country has to hold hand for `humanitarian help`. Poor, poor Great Empire! I prefer to receive but 1 your picture in each letter. Please, be honey, do not send or talk of money – I wait for your letters with pictures and kisses.
   Thank you for your care for my unworthy person. If I`ll be known to Americans after my death, – good, – I`m ready to die even today. :)
   So long –
   Larisa.
   P.S. Merry Christmass to you!
   Happy New-Year to you!

Letter 25
Dec`91

   Dear Brad, здравствуй!
   I`m replying on your letter from 25.11.91. (about marriage)
   What can I say? Difficult to answer.
   It`s not `his guilt`. He is good, maybe, too good for me. He cares for me in this troubleful time.
   I am unworthy. It`s my hasty -------
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agreement.
   I`m not still understand myself. I`m not Dostoevsky to describe those motions of soul making me to do that.
   But – I cannot live all my life in waiting for somebody-something. I`m not that cat who has 9 lives. I`m to think about `kitten + kitchen`. I must have children, family, sooner or later. I`m 25. Here – soviet women grow old quickly. It`s humdrum of life.
   I`ll try to be a good wife, – be worthy and faithful to husband.
   About Love – I had the only real Love, – he left me long ago, without any explanation, without `good-bye`, without giving a freedom for me.
   As a slap in the face – cause I was waiting – he`s married.
   My God, How it was painful, when I knew.
   There was a long struggle inside me, – for myself, against myself, agaist outside. 5 years of hope and disappointments…
   And just I became an `iron-ironic` lady – `strong and impassible` – he `s `returned` to me! I`ve met him not long ago, I wrote.
   I don`t know it`s good or bad that it`s happened. My life falls into chaos, confusion. It`s beyond of my power.
   All strength and independence become `weak-willed` slackness.
   He says – that I`m the only woman that he loves and ever loved.
   He says – … – many things , cruel in their lateness, making me cry because of a bitter and complete understanding that all is irreparable. He is still a living nerve of my life that makes me suffer. My pain and nostalgia. I`ll never be with him, in spite of his words. But also I cannot live embittering myself – life must continue. Eppur si muove!
   I can find strength to live, to love, to laugh. Now I`m quiet – I have nobody to lose. – so I decided to marry with any man, who will love me. So – my fiance.
   I hope… I do not know, what I`m hoping on.
   Now I see the step was hasty. But not way to escape. I`m in trap. Trap of a moral debt. – I much obliged him. I work in his firm, use his car, his care for me, my appartments due to him. Circle of acquaitance, our engagement is known to `half-of-city`. (He is deputy and laureate here.).
   So, I`m tied with myself up. (not died still). It`s my `cross`. This autumn I had a chance to work abroad for 1-2 years. There was invitation. But he`d known and closed my road. I knew about his deed for `care for me` long after.
   It was that cold shower that sober me and make to stare into the depth of his eyes. – innocent as lamb`s eyes. Just as Angel, without wings only.
   Now I`m going to China, to see this ancient country. I`ve got a foreign passport, but problem in tickets. It depends on him. How many things in my life now depend on him. I do not like it at all.
   However, if it`ll happen that I`ll tear with him – I shall leave this city, this respublic. Where? – perhaps – Novosibirsk. You know what is happening here – terrible things.
   I always have with me a `weapon` (but never use) – gas-cylinder, because I`m lucky to be stuck in some situations.
   As a magnet for something strange, sometimes dangerous adventures, but as a magician I usually make `happy-end`.
   All it come on me `cause I have `red-birth-mark-on-forehead` – (as if «Бог шельму метит!») maybe, it`s sign of Satan(?), and `666` in pentagram; and I have Angel-keeper from birth too, even two.
   Thus, Satan and Angel lead me throughout life. If beginning of my deeds belongs to Satan, Angels save me. If beginnings belong to Angel, I`m more than sure – Satan must muddle in the most crucial moments.
   Whose beginning is about marriage? Who knows. (if you want to play role of S/A – wellcome, please! – it`ll be heat-fiesta` – something of it should happen one way or another)
   He knows about you. He says: `if he`ll come here, I`ll send him to hell-kingdom`.
   He fears if I suddenly fall in love with `in-appearance`. I don`t know. Now I have only your handsome pictures. You`re young, moreover, you`re -------
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foreigner. American men are considered here as $ in comparison to `rouble`. Questionable advantage if to consider from the view-point of eternal human essense.. somebody is honey, somebody is only money. Are you honey? Money?
   As a matter of fact – You`re for me not so foreigner, as stranger. `Stranger` sounds as russian «странник» (wanderer ). Wanderer in the night… strange, mysterious soul.
   Maybe, I`ll find in your heart something strange, new – new Frontier (not Newgate, I hope), something surprising+charming me.
   Not because of curiosity, but looking for wonderment.
   Maybe, terra incognita will become `the Promised Land`, new found – who knows?
   For a while, for now – you`re beyond the clouds of my heart, my dearest stranger, nearest because of part of soul, Бред.
   I wonder, what can be our relationship `in-appearance`. It wouldn`t so?
   Now: you made an excellent `sex-review` in your previous letter.
   If it is not difficult to you, tell me, please, something of:

   What dances are popular there,
   What writers, poets, what music,
   What your friends-circle do in week-end, parties, etc;
   What are you talking usually about;
   What your (girl-)friends think of our `Great Empire`;
   Do they know that you have a friend in Russia?
   Do you have another pen-friend in world? In Russia?
   …. And so on – at your discretion

   It is so interesting to me. Maybe, I am too curious and talkative (But in childhood I was silent, `cause of stutter)
   I`m waiting for your letters, pictures, yourself.
   With love – Larisa

Letter 26
10.12.91.

   Dear Brad, здравствуй!
   I`m writing a `pang-letter`.
   I feel myself such a `homo soveticus`. –
   One who forgot what means to be natural; to be a simple woman. Instead of `make love` – who can only `make laugh` – without `measure+norm+limit` – laugh at all and everything; at the world and myself;

   at own pain and own laughter – that is agony. /historical hysterics/

   It`s not good laughter – but laughter `before-the-scaffold`. Here is laughter of Satan inside of soul that destroys me, that makes me a `gallows-bird`, /not only `damned atheist`/
   But, also, it`s `laughter-self-weapon` – the weapon against a cruel mockery of Life, it`s `cross`; against the dirt and banality; against lethargy in the mire of vanity-of-vanities; against `self-possessed` /self-`Satanation`/
   In my last letter… I want so much you forgive and forget some foolish words.
   /what can be accepted here, may not be understand there, ne?/
   I`m sorrowed, sorrowed, sorrowed… – about my iron-irony in life and letters; about the `crazy country` of evergreen tomatos; about boundaries and distances, about `soviet + american` that means never together, ever in life.
   I`ve received your last letter from 26.11.91.
   I feel your passion, tenderness+warmth! I answer with love – in spite of all.
   In spite of – you`re american, `beyond` – you return, gift me reality – a clear sky, bright stars, a careless smile – and love, – human love; not `beyond` – but – `..never ever forget..`
   I love you not only as `strange – Бред` – but, maybe, as far away Brad.
   I fall in love with your last letter.
   Hypnotic, bewitching, beautiful letter!
   I never knew…
   I would be beside you through out that starry night – until it`s grown dark forever –
   But I cannot.
   Moreover , I dare not – more exact – I should not.
   Dry tears of mine…
   The only leaves to me – to be a dreamer, to be contemplator.
   The only I can – is to contemplate these dreams, that reality and this life; to contemplate my own `falling – to dying`
   Here could be found any philosophy that can say:

   That `falling to dying` is not the end in itself, but –
   Transition from Quantity to Quality, or contrary;
   That (letter)-love through the sleepless nights is only self-delusion;
   That all these are `subjective reality` – from the view-point of Creative-Marxism;
   That all is tinsel, nonsense, nothing –
   At the end of all – vanity-of-vanities.
   ***

   Tomorrow morning – without cry

     Without anger – A frosen ganger
     I shall die – tomorrow morning!
     But if tonight – the sky is starry
     – yours is flight!.. don`t be so hurry…
     – till tomorrow morning…
     (Tonight – my Runglish to you; must be said with Russian intonations)
     My dear knight !
     – remember each!
     – my breath tonight!…
     With love – your `witch`.

   /Larisa
   P.S. your chest could chase my worries, if not the chasm `tween us.
   `my american defender` – it could be not more than unlucky joke 6 years ago, B.G. /before Gorby/ – joking apart, indeed… /in bed…/again laughter, my God…/
   I`m reading over+over your last letter – as if I`m listening to `Pink-Floyd` – their `Wish you were here`, or `Dark side of the Moon`. Do you like it?

Letter 27
Jan(?)`92

   Dear Brad, здравствуй!
   This – devoted to you:

     You are young, you are so tender
     My american defender.
     I`m sleeping on your shoulder
     You`re my slave, you are my holder.

     Don`t seduce me in your letter
     `In-appearance` is better –
     Could be? Would be? – I am dizzy!
     Here is Runglish. Take it easy!

     He`ll be paved in good intention
     In his crucial intervention.
     I`m going to the Hell!
     And my rhymes with me as well.

   To write rhymes is a best way to study English.
   Now I`m reading `English through communications`. So I decide to `talk` with you. /Irrepressible prattler, ne?/
   It`s not interesting to study abstractly. And – how difficult without a real, living communication. I cannot speak correctly and freely.
   I`d rather write in English. Because my hand remembers words better than head. So, your language is hand-operated to me. As if – some hand-hold-play with a young handsome boy. I play with Runglish that is: talking in the mother tongue using English words, i.e. literal translation, or sound association, or any sense perversion. It`s fun.
   So, your tongue is my favourite toy through out my sleepless nights. J I cannot feel it without real practice in life, nevertheless, I love it. I admire of its power and other properties.
   English is very analythical language – precise and concise – particularly, in your letters. How I want to know it.
   I read Canada has two official language – French and English. Which is the mother tongue to you?
   I think how much mistakes -------
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I do in letters. I don`t like mistakes in Russian letters. I`m irritated with -------
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mistakes, so I can understand you, if my phrases `cut your ears`. But here is shortage of english books and dictionaries in book-shops, shortage of communication. I try to watch TV, one of the programms shows -------
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foreign films, but with translation. How much of those films are empty, moreover – stupid – full of gayful fools and goofy guys. I think that those are most cheapest on the video-market. Yet, I love many American films which I saw. My favourite (american) producer is Milosh Forman. Do you like his films?
   Now I try to `touch` with American culture. At least, to read books. Please, advise me something of what, which, how, etc. – help me to see your world as `my american friend`. Tell me something -------
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about `simplicity of your life`.
   All is strange, all is mysterious, so – interesting to me. As a stranger – you`re `magnum ignotum` for me, or `mysterium magnum.` /listen to this `vox clamantis in deserto` J/
   My student education, i.e. upbringing was under influence such groups as `Led Zeppelin`, `Pink Floyd`, `Deep Purple`, `King Krimson`, `Queen`, `Beatles`, `Genesis`, etc
   Now I want to gather all of them, tapes of some concerts.
   I heard that Freddy Mercury (Queen) has died not long ago. How I`m sorrowed. Here was a party-memory devoted to him, in my apartment.
   Now I`m listening one american musical `Chess`. And trying to translate.
   Don`t you want to study Russian? It would be useful for you, if you`ll come here. F.e. – If suddenly you`ll fallen in love with Russia and there`ll appear a crazy wish to leave here for some time. Or, f.e., sad necessity, such as a putsch, or revolution, or civil war – that is very possible. Will you fight on our barricades as adventurer?
   /You wrote that our meeting will be too early. – why?/
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How many of my letters are you keeping? Imagine, if our correspondence will have such frequency, if there will not be `crisis of genre` and both of us will be healthy+friendly – it will be a lot of them, a large heap. -------
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.
   And your children or grandchildren will play with paper-doves and ships made of -------
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letters-love-through-the-nights. Indeed, carrier-pigeons, flying beyond the clouds or

     The doves of Peace –
     above the World…
     How much I miss
     Your love, your kiss
     My joy,
     My toy…
     I`m not so old,
     But I am cold;
     My heart is lost
     In permafrost
     My star is dim
     Because of `him`.
     I wait for you
     That boy I knew…
     It is the tend
     To happy-end…
     You`ve read this maze
     Which is my craze…
     If you are tired
     With me by side
     I`ll dissappear…
     Good-night, my dear…

   With love – Larisa.

Letter 28
Night ~18.12.91

   Dear Brad, здравствуй!
   I`ve received your letter. You are right – thousand times – you are right. I am naughty, too naughty! Without measure+norm+limit. (here: I`ve fallen in sadness and self-/not only self/-reproaching – it`s a favourite occupation of Soviets).
   What will be my speech about? I do not know.
   Or: to give you a detailed account of events and situations – more or less important or impressive?
   Or : to try to describe a physiological sensation of this lump in the throat that is consuming my soul?
   Or, maybe – to tell some depressive thoughts about irreparableness accompanying any sensible existance here?
   Or: to submit some patterns of black-soviet-humour and cynical-critical attitude to reality?
   Indeed – to turn inside-world out is a tedious and unethical occupation;
   About global events of outside-world you can know due to the press, TV, etc
   Indeed, I am naughty – (moreover or because) – I am died – already – inside.
   But the paradox consists in that – the more safe mode of life is mine – the less I look for God and – the more I laugh at myself, History, people – the less pangs of something ephemeral, that exists between the byblical place and gullet, that called `soul` – so – the more I feel myself as a living corpse, as a marionette in hands of social standards, cliché and cheapest lying moral (ethics).
   But I am not cynic, I`m something average of cynic-lyric.
   If the God exist – I don`t believe Him.
   If the Light exist – it cannot warm me – it`s a cold light and – it`s as it should – laugh. Bitter laughter, but better.
   However – do not think that I`m racked with pine for something or despair. Or repentance. Even it is inaccessible for me.
   But it`s a devilishly joyous life. – if one can laugh at people`s folly and prognostication of stupidest+insufferable political situations; laugh at that great diligence with which people dissipate or squander own life trying to keep some inflated values, laugh at triumphs+tragedies, at aids and fear of it, at pitiable and commonplace attempts of people to survive and love…
   It`s not good, to laugh at all. But even if in the name of that – life is worthy to live. It all was and will be untill mankind croaks in cloaca or under the cloak of eternal night – died darkness.
   In comparison with that sad fact – all another is the little nothings of life.
   Why am I writing to you such a marasmus? You are younger and more pure. (with exeption of `sex` J)
   You `re growing up in another world, maybe, more quiet, at least without such Perestroyka (in consciousness).
   Further – the pearls of fine literature – take care of your ears.

   Here are my rhymes devoted to my nearest and dearest 21-old stranger. Here is Runglish – so – must be read with Russian intonations. You are a living nerve of my life (still), that make me smile. Please, don`t be offended. I am I – nobody else. I am waiting for your letters and pictures (not nude!). It seems to me that you don`t understand correctly my Runglish about this `theme`. With smile – your naughty friend. Yet, with love – Lara.
   P.S. Indeed how much clever and stupid words have been said by people from that moment when: En arche en ho logos!
   Morning.
   `Information for meditation`

   You write that `make love` or `do love` is not necessary concerned with some abstract `true love`?
   As if some natural doing of people?
   Yet, you have a very patriarchal outlook at `marriage` + quite modern views at relationship of sexes.
   Is not it `contradiction criante`?
   Generally – what is your views, i.e. outlook at such a subject as `marriage` or `family`. F.e.. in Canada – relationship between husband and wife, parent and children? You write that your Love to Michelle was broken by her father – it means that parents have a great influence, right – on the individual life of their children? What is your relationship with your parents? What means `to pay Debts to parents`? Money for upbringing? :)
   I heard that studing costs money – is it expensive? Only money or competition`s examinations for entering? Where are you studing – in University?
   Here (in CCCP): our education is free, i.e. without money. Moreover – students get money for studing. But we had a great competition to enter – (exellent marks + interlocution).
   My Sasha knows about you. He admires of our friendship. He will be very glad to see + drink with you. Looking at your pictures, he said: `as a magicion` – `I see the smile of Fate on his face`. It means that Fortune loves you. (What means `soldier of Fortune`?) Sasha knows English not better than me. But he knows French better, as I know about 100 words, he – maybe, 110-120 , – but with Russian pronounciation. Mainly – these are phrases as: `tout passe, tout casse, tout lasse` or `Ou est la femme?` – aphorisms or words. It was as if `bon ton` if one can say some Latin, French, etc. phrases with `thoughtful face`, it`s too, some `necessary part` of upbringing that not index of education or intellect, worse than dilettantism, but it`s not considered seriously, – with smile as: `levez-vous, monsieur le comte, vous avez de grandes choses a faire!`
   what is your native language (the mother tongue?)? what is your nationality – if such notion exist in Canada?
   Generally – education is good thing, ne? particularly, self-education, even if it`s dilettantism. But I think, our children shall reach more high level of intellect, be more human, at least. And I must – in the name of my descendants, get more or some – level or point – grow up for future generations that: my children will be better than me, fly up higher than me. Maybe, they will be more happy, at last. What is your outlook at this theme? Do you have such `in the name of` or it`s only soviet phrase. In childhood – I remember – `in the name of bright future of all mankind`, `in the name of Motherland`, `in the name of Com.Party of CCCP`. Now there leaves only `in the name of __` with empty predicative place, – in subconsciousness. I think `children` is a worthy word for this emptiness/shortage, ne?
   Did you ever think or imagine your own family, children, wife? What do you think about upbringing of your own `descendants`? With Sasha we often discussed this theme in our childhood. Maybe, because our parents are teachers, and grandparents too.
   Do you like children? (Do you have children? J).
   Would you like to have them? J To make them? :)
   In my nationality, i.e. among Buryats people are considered: till 25 years old you`re free, – but after 25 you must have children. ( and man, and woman – even without marriage)/
   Among Buryats – children and old people are considered as `sacred`: f.e. Buryat children never become an orphans, even in case of parent`s death they are necessary adopted with other relations. So, according to statistics in CCCP – it`s so.
   And if man marries with woman who has children it was considered well – as `enrichment of blood`. Good tradition, ne? :)
   In marriage – parents could agree or prohibite, the only criterion of their consideration was `healthy heredity` – up to 5-6 generation. (my mother – `white bone`, father `sky blood` J). How it considered in Canada? In Japan? In your life? :)
   I could continue to ask and tell, but est modus in rebus.
   So – take easy page N1, try to answer on page N2.
   I`m waiting for your letters, words, pictures.
   So – so long.
   With love – Larisa.
   Take easy my rhymes – it`s not more than any way to study your language. I can build them in Runglish – unlimitedly.;)
   I love your letters, most of all – from 26.11.91. – `never-ever-forget`.
   \\\\
   Tomorrow.
   Dear Brad, здравствуй!
   Here is me again. I`m still under impression of your last letter from 26.11.91. Do you remember it? – I love it.
   I try to imagine our (second) meeting. And I cannot. Moreover – I fear – of that starry-night.
   Fear – because I`ll not be so `speechable` as you see, not so beautiful as you think, not so young as youself.
   Moreover – our passion will have such a prosaic background as humdrum of our life.
   Of course, I`ll care for your safety, but life is life, particularly, our life, for now.
   I`m a simple soviet woman, maybe, more crazy+dreamy, but soviet. I fear that we`ll be so different as people grown up in different cultures, in opposite worlds. American+Soviet. I fear all of that.
   And I`m afraid of Capitalism.
   Sometimes I want to abroad as many Russians, – not away from, – but to see that `rainbow-world`.
   I saw New-York by TV-set – as an embodiment of America – a tremendous stone-jungle, illuminated with bright neon reclames, lights of shop-windows of supermarkets; much of machines and crowds of people, strange for each other. Strange, strange far away world.
   But our propaganda calls us there – towards to Capitalism!
   Maybe, our world will become such a rainbow – after a long rain, thunderstorm; after terrible -------
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snowfalls, because Russia is country of ancient snows; was sleeping in permafrost. In Russian: «страна древних снегов и снов» (сон=sleep, dream, снов (pl.)=(Runglish)= snow). One day it`ll awake and all mankind will wonder at this `snow-rainbow`. Maybe, one day…
   But now I see our Capitalism only from one side – all is legal, all is expensive; but with socialistic property, expressed in its Quality (made in CCCP) and Quantity (shortage of all).
   Our `supermarkets` remind me of skittle-alleys because of «шаром покати» (Russian idiom `to roll ball` = means emptiness).
   There in – crowds of overmodest old-ladies in valenki+headscarfs; veterans+invalids of wars, + anthropoid bodies (= hulk+bulk), adorned with sable-furs +golds and a vulgar lipstick around voracious jaws – that are ready to feed everything+everybody; that require: `Panem! Et Circenses!` – much of such. Terrible picture described by me.
   Not only such, of course. I hope – there will be Transition from terrible Quantity to satisfied Quality.
   I`ve read about America of 60th . Maybe, we are `such`.
   Agony of `old-world` + pangs of new-born, more exact – birth throes, labour pains. The last is more correct. Our people have to accustom (because – had too accustomed) to – labour as the cause and sauce of joy.
   There is no Royal road.
   Perestroyka is first of all – revolution (not evolution!) in consciousness. Revolution is always cruel, maybe, too cruel.
   Can you imagine the pangs of those people who devoted whole own life, all powers to building of the `bright-communistic-future-for-all-mankind`; who had nothing to lose besides their Belief – in that future – the Belief in Communism;
   Who has nothing now, – because `they` have taken away the last they had, – trampled on their Belief and dignity, – have cast a slur upon their ideals – ideals in the name of that there was much of blood and sufferings!
   Our Perestroyka costs a disappointment (or disillusionment?) for whole past generations – in own life. It`s also, a hope of young (future) generation on -------
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satisfaction, (`heat fiesta`).
   At Present – something boiling+freezing.
   My generation perceived that – Perestroyka (first of all) with Glasnost (publicity).
   `We` were too young, but already not children. It`s the age of first adult understanding+ opening of the World.
   And what was we had seen:
   Too much of falsehood was in -------
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many things sacred for us in childhood. The first reaction was: `All is nonsense, nothing! There is no anything worthy to live in the name of…`
   I knew about the fate of my grandfather only that time – that he was not only `repressed`, but shot, – as many intelligent, educated people, that time.
   My confused generation, perplexed+ tormented with moral pangs!
   I had suicidal intentions many times because of that anguish. But I was sorrowed about my parents and, of course, about own senseless, in that case, life.
   Now, when I think to make my `quick-painless-decease` – against disease of a slow `dying to falling` in chaos – I`m sorrowed – about my unborn children who must live, love, laugh…
   Is it interesting to you? To read such a `review` about `strange Russians`. We are the same living people, usual and normal. Understand `us`.
   ////

     Но это бредни, боль, ты мне понятна.
     Ты тяга к жизни подлинной и светлой.
     Сиротство сердца, брошенного в море,
     Где ни звезды, ни гибельного ветра.
     Как верный пес, хозяином забытый,
     Утративший и след и обонянье,
     плетется наугад, и как ребенок,
     Который заблудился на гулянье.
     И в толчее ночного карнавала
     Среди свечей, личин, фантасмагорий
     Бредет как зачарованный, а сердце
     Сжимается от музыки и горя, -
     Так я блуждаю, гитарист-лунатик,
     Хмельной поэт, тоскующий глубоко,
     И бедный человек, который в тучах
     Отыскивает бога. (A. Machado – Spanish poet)

   If you have slept – with this letter – my drowsy kiss and lulling love – Larisa
   .
   P.S. May I`ll not rewrite this – too much of corrections, it must be black-copy…

Letter 29
Feb(?)`92

   Hello, my dearest friend from another land + lang!
   Dear Brad, здравствуй!
   How are you? Как дела?
   Today, unexpectedly + gladly, I`ve received your letter+picture. Thank-you!
   How much I love such long, such living letters. Today is holiday of `White-Moon` – New-Year according to Eastern calendar. We had a party – there were much of drinking, tiring talkings about policy, economical reforms, etc. I`m tired of `serious things`, so, my mood is not `white`, but very `red` – I`m ready+wish to do something shocking, f.e. to write this letter – под шафэ.
   So, be ready to read marasmus of inspired `drunkard`..
   Dear Brad, how much I`m glad to read, to hear you, (and would be glad) to see you.
   About `nothing to forgive` – I see – you`ve not received those letters with obscene anecdotes, verses, pictures, etc. it`s better in KGB than before you.
   About `your letter of 26.11.91` – sorry, that you forgot it. It`s a `classical case` of `making love` through the correspondence of letters. That is chef-d`oeuvre that `makes heart race, breast ache, thighs warm with passion`.
   About: your `big lust` – Hm! – `Vos oreilles sont bien chastes et vos moeurs – bien depravees`. Though – I`m not `mimosa sensitiva`. You`re right – I`m not innocent girl, – but quite naughty, sometimes shocking, + with a `very-big-bit` of such a thing as `healthy cynicism`.
   About : `What am I going to do with `25 without children`? – oh, don`t tread on my pet corn! – you see, I`m going to marry. – there is the rub! It must help me to solve this problem.
   About `the man whom I promissed` – you know in English there exist such a saying: `the promises are like pie-crusts made to be broken`, in French: `souvent femme varie, bien fol est qui s`y fie`. I hold English+French `outlooks` in high respect, – moreover, – I`m a perfectly child of my Great Empire whose policy as names are changing like the weather, – Confusion will be my epitaph…
   About `American-Hero` – in my subconsciousness there happened a little metamorphosis of such a puzzling and dazzling notion as `American-Hero`:

   B.G. (Before Gorby) – it was as B.S. (unprintable), concerned with CIA – in night-mares as `A Herod` (as `Terminator` – I looked not long ago).
   B.C. (Before our Correspondence) – the image of `A.-H.` was indeed `A-Hero` – `sunny-beach`,+bronzed `biceps+triceps`,+ Hollywood `cheese`-smile – `from ear to ear`, +dazzling teeth – there in – eternal corn-flakes, +cigarette `Marlboro`, +chewing gum – in short – ever chewing-cow-boy:) .
   For now (maybe, due to you) `A.-H.` = `Ah! + Oh! – Her dream` + the same dazzling `biceps, triceps`, teeth, gum, rubber + another puzzling things.
   Certainly, I don`t expect any `commitments` or so on, from you. I`m waiting for you to see, to talk, etc – quite innocently.
   However if such a drama will happen that one of us (`master` or `mastur`) will accidently seduce another – under the cover of night or right in broad daylight – (which case do you prefer? :) ) – I think nothing terrible as aids, etc will not be presented to one-another.
   About `my brilliant poetry` – tearful? – you wrote one day that your favourite poems are in the Bible. Do you adore the Bible for now?
   I present you something opposite – a savage, atrocious violation of Eng.lang. and somebody`s ears:
   `Adventures of a stranger` (in Great Empire)

   There was a young boy – too amusing,
   Who had a young dream – too confusing.
   He`s come here, at last
   With a `very big lust`
   And the cheese in the teeth – too seducing… =>
   It has occurred in the middle of summer:
   One very young, very innocent drummer, -
   Pure and noble, dreamer and knight, -
   Has been seduced right in broad daylight!
   Can you imagine that thriller or drama?
   Not worse, – but worthy of `Sutra-of-Kama`.
   Nobody saw it – the cover of night
   Cloaked them carefully out of sight…

   If it is a sin
   I don`t care a pin!

   But a little pine
   For a `starry-shine`!…
   Players never win! –
   Pour me, please, some wine!
   Nothing chocking? Is it tearful? –
   Here – my poetical inspiration begot `Pearls about swan`, no more. Difficult to stop myself – Le papier souffre tout et ne rougit de rien, ne? shocking woman – `definitely exciting!`. Maybe tomorrow I`ll be sorry, that I sent it. And more – I love your picturies.
   Here is very-very big
   As respectable as pig,
   Passionately chewing fig –
   Generally – real swine!
   Noble and clever mug,
   Looking as a tender pug,
   Singing swansong, smoking drug,
   Swan is swimming in the wine. (it`s my angry self-portrait of malicious rhymester)

   A.H.! I pray, don`t get me wrong!

   Take it easy! /this swinesong/
   I m ending to prolong –
   Till the next time – so long!
   With love –
   Larisa.
   P.S. this marasmus is due to the mood begotten by wish to run away from talkings and thoughts about humdrum of life. Maybe, your delicate ears become red, maybe, not send it? I am waiting for your reaction.
   My address has changed – instead of USSR – new name – I forgot it. Write to `Russia, 670000, Ulan-Ude, …` – and etc
   Kiss. – me

Letter 30
08-09.02.92

   Dear Brad, здравствуй!
   I have another your letter before me. Now I answer:
   About `hell-kingdom` – I cannot promise paradise, But, don`t fear, Mortal One! – nobody (of men) will touch to you. I promise – as a magician to be your `Soviet Defender` or Angel-Keeper (it was not real threat, but only empty words)
   About `The King Arthur of Buryat + a soviet passport` – amusing idea:
   : (a bit of poetry)

     In a queue, my God!
     Savage crowds trod
     On his Darling Corn
     On the foot, – has torn
     Pockets on his jeans,
     In despair he leans
     On the dirty wall
     In a greatest gall,
     Then he holds a speech:
     `What a sunny beach!
     What a vicious moeur!`
     (c`est sorti du coeur,
     `cause of pain in foot) –
     They don`t give a hoot,
     That he`s `King Arthur`
     With a great `bonjour`
     And a nice `bon ton`,
     Having true talon,
     Having Golden Star…
     But , alas, he`s far
     From the tender hand
     Of his motherland
     Which seems Paradise
     In his tearful eyes, -
     Where he`d fly away
     From this foolish play
     Even on one wing!..
     Hell with `Vertual-King`!
     Hell with `Woman-Friend`!
     Such is `happy-end` –
     Of one real story,
     Of true-love and glory –
     On revient toujour
     A ses premiers amours…
     …sic transit gloria mundi…

   Now:
   About `mind`eye` of , + `what it would be, if I married you?` – indeed, here is a tremendous space for fantasy, dream, imagination, foretelling+anecdotes. Yes, an interesting theme to discuss. – `The King Arthur has gotten Soviet Passport + Wife-Queen`
   As a simple woman – I `d like it to happen – here. (as too selfish one)
   As a faithful patriot – `Wellcome! You shall be known to whole CCCP, will become a National-Soviet-Hero + get The Golden Star (that was the highest reward in CCCP) – sic itur ad astra! – do you like it? You`ll be starry-boy!
   As Pessimist – `Hm! Drummer+Dreammer? + dreary humdrum of life? Here? Marriage? I think that Her-Hero shall run away from Empire+Queen just afterhoneymoon with trauma in psyche + trouble in mind. This Fate not for `mimosa sensetiva`
   As optimist – `Wellcome! It must turn to happy-end!` – in any case -------
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   Philosopher: `Yes, happy-end – in any case. Even if the end will not be happy, one must be happy because the end has come.
   Atheist: карма предопределена!, but Неисповедимы пути Господни! ~ only God knows.
   As player: to play the Queen with King? Art-hurra!? Va-banque?! – Wonderful!
   Magician: will be your soviet defender.
   Indignant contemplator: there appeared a very bad and sad tendency that Russ. girls prefer to marry with foreigners (no matter who, – even if they are cannibals from some islands) – only to run from CCCP. What a shame!
   But as your friend I say: `indeed – don`t tempt your fate! (человек! Не искушай богов!) it would be the most crazy step in your life + terrible adventures + horrible + honorable adultries, etc.
   As a lover: If you will indeed die here – I shall fulfil your request to kiss your cold– dying lips to good-night. – I promise! But please do not do that! I prefer – to kiss your warm-living lips tonight. :)
   As a mathematicion: 50+50 (kisses).
   There exist more view-point of another `me-persons`, but I think it`s quite complete seeing of `our marriage` with smile. I hope – not insulting you (as `mathematical analysis`).
   Do you like the idea of marriage through the correspondence of letters?
   However – I`m waiting for your arrival. As all these persons. Here you will be persona-grata.
   *** I`ll send you an invitation – as soon as possible. but (not for wedding + not from my name) – from the name of my cousin. (I have no `propiska` ~ official address here after leaving the factory)
   About my engagement: Oh, take it easy! It`s my problem. All it was and will be…
   As ever – I made a mess for myself! And must disentangle from this hopeless mess. I`m a master to create troubles for myself.The main problem is – how to do that everyone leaves in peace. How to tear without tears, enemies and not to find myself `sur le pave du bon Dieu`. Indeed, that is the question. As it can be said: `you`ve made your bed (bad!), now you can lie (die!) on it`.
   – Never say die! – Better say lie? – in struggle for life – the better to lie standing than to live dying. – No more than play of words, but I play with words created by God`s mistake? Never! say! lie!
   You wrote many times that you cannot lie, shouldn`t lie.
   Indeed, never say False? – good for you, God loves you.
   I hate lie too. As a mathematicion I never say False. Do you know what means `mathematical truth`, that could be considered as the great humbug – `too tooth` – false tooth. For example – in one of your letters you wrote that you shouldn`t lie to your girl-friend; about your faithfulness to her : `.. it means that I will not sleep with another women..` – but it also can mean that you can `make love` (or make sex) with another without sleeping (at all) – without lying at all => without saying False, ne? = `False tooth`. Naughty words? However – I hate+avoid to speak False. But to listen to (=to hear too) – there exist one opinion that women like to listen to False, as if `sacred False for sake of saving soul`. Maybe, just maybe. If the Truth is terrible+tiring – I prefer to know it, but avoid to hear much of such a thing – boring-hurting truth-`tooth of Time` – of nowadays in press, TV – I`m sick of it`s hopelessness, cruelity, tedium. One hero of Bulgakov`s `Heart of Dog` said: `never read soviet newspapers before dinner!` how he was right! I read them rarely and only the last page, f.e. in August – I could have chance to not know about the putsch at all, if there not exist queue here – maybe, it`s the main source of news for me, but I rarely stand there, – the better `black market` while have money. Generally – how it`s good to be alone in this case. To have children now, particularly, if she is alone – is very difficult, (not in sense to bear, but) to bring up. Though – if it will not end, and I see, – it will be continuing, at least, too enough for me, as minimum till 21 centure… indeed, Hamlet has put a question point-blank – before all mankind – to be or not to be, sinse – everybody must solve.
   По-моему у меня уже крыша едет. Несу какую-то чушь, сплошной бред, «сюр» и, похоже сама уже не понимаю. (Excuse me, I`m lazy to rewrite this pages).
   If it is naughty (about lie+ rhymes) – take it easy!
   With kiss and love – Larisa

     ***
     Foolish improvisation:
     What a pity!
     In this city
     King Arthur has died.
     Tearful clouds
     Tearful crowds
     Kissed his lips and cried.
     Queen in sadness
     Queen in `bad-mess`
     Cannot stand nor lie
     Night was restless
     Knight was breathless
     Nobless oblige:`Die!`
     He was dying
     She was crying
     `Please, my darling, rise!`
     She was kissing
     He was missing
     Something otherwise.
     That`s the reason
     Of `King-season`
     In the Paradise.
     I`m so sorry
     But this story
     Does not moralize.

   I hope it `s not insulting you. If so – forgive me.
   P.S. 1) what means `tratior` (citation:`A tratior to the American Dream leading men in unison`)?
   2) about your talking `naughty` – I like it! It`s better than this hopeless mess.
   You are genious naughty!
   Next month (March~April) I`m going to Academgorodok in a business trip. Maybe, for ever. However – I`ll send you an invitation. At least, it would be better to show you my dear places, than here. This city not became my native. I do not know it well. I have not here such friends as in Academgorodok. More nearest people for me (here) are my cousins – Inna, Ola and Helen. But they are younger me – I`m for them as `teacher`. They would be very glad to see you too. To the point, I`ll send invitation from the name of one of them. (I have not right, + propiska, +secret factory, etc)
   `Sister-lover` – sounds very strange. I cannot call you `brother-lover` – only – `either-or`, (i.e. one of them) … you`re tired to read?!.
   I kiss and say: Bye-Bye!
   До свидания, not farewell! Лариса
   I never know measure. Simply , it`s such amusing for me to write in English, even if it`s nonsense. English, English – my pet-corn.
   If you`ll come here – I cannot speak English, i.e. the level of my Runglish is as: `it is a table. It was the table yesterday`. No practice here at all.

     Tell me why
     You can`t lie?
     Ah – in God we trust!
     You`re so shy,
     But – hey, guy!
     What about `lust`.
     Crying shame!
     But the same
     You beget and raise
     In my mind
     The worst kind
     As a foolish craze. :)

   P.S.
   Suffering from sleeplessness and from `talkativology` I am sitting and creating rhymes –

     About Love and so on…
     Imagine! We have met tonight
     We have a talk about Fight,
     About Love and Light:

     «it is a table» – I can say –
     «it … was… the table… `yestoday`»
     (I`m sorry – `yesterday`).
     «tomorrow… it …will …be… the same,
     Or, maybe, … not `the same`, but…`lame` –
     Who knows?» – What a shame!

     You see – my speech is tiring, `cause
     I often hold a thoughtful pause
     And wait for … /your applause/

     Vocabulary? – ah, don`t ask!
     Pronunciation? – That`s the task!
     (For chicken, in the dusk).

     I know words `Hello`, `okay`,
     The difference `tween `pray` and `play` //`tween KGB and CIA!/,
     But not `tween `guy` and `gay`.

     And also, I can send to Hell,
     I do it, maybe, very well –
     It sounds like a spell.

     I can make freely (quite enough!)
     A declaration of my Love
     In terms of …(Look above!)

     Yes, I describe my Love and Dream,
     According to this `table-scheme`
     (Perhaps, I`m off the beam.)

     But words of love `run-never-smooth`
     (What`s better here – `goose` or `youth`?)
     Tooth, tooth, and only tooth:

     I love you – as my childish game,
     I want you – `cause you fan the flame,
     I need you – and your name.

     Your name in Russian sounds «Бред»
     (It seems to me – I`ve lost the thread,
     Indeed – from verse to bed…)

     What do you think – it is not crime?
     I mean – to write a foolish rhyme
     Without any chime.

     Ah chime! – about Love we talk?
     What do I love? – Of course, hard-rock!
     (Don`t read it as a `cock`!)

     I see – my words – from verse to worse
     It`s not my guilt…(Such is Red-Horse!)
     Such is the Law of Universe –
     While turns Old-Lady-Earth…

   ///Etc… you can continue it farther…

     2) By the way,
     I like to play
     With words, – I say
     To you: `Hey-guy! -

     You must reply

     what does it mean
     `Please, take me in`
     (it`s not my craze
     It was your phrase).
     До свиданья, не скучай,
     пей не водку, только чай,
     побыстрее отвечай,
     `cause i wait for your reply,
     и скорее приезжай.

   // блин, дурная привычка – все рифмовать! ~ what a harm habit – to rhyme all!.

Letter 31
28.02.92.

   Dear Brad, здравствуй!
   This letter is about invitation. I must fill a form. So I need some information about you. Necessary:

   – your patronimic / отчество
   – citizenship / Canada?
   – Birthyear /1970?
   – Birthplace (city, country) / Vancouver?
   – From which coutry will enter to CIS? / From Japan?
   – Working place or studing – which – name of organization, department, etc.
   – Post /teacher~student?
   – Your last visit to CCCP – when, where, with which purpose?
   – To get invitation is a quite long procedure. One must be endurable. So – please answer on 1-8 and send as soon as you can.

   Tomorrow morning I`ll go to my parents. For one month. After that – ??? I know nothing. I believe that my Angel-Keepers will care for my darling person.
   My letter is very short, `cause I`m not at home, but in the flat of my cousin, (this invitation will be from her name). I`m hurry – much things to do, places to go.
   So long.
   Don`t forget 1-8!
   With love – Larisa
   P.S. I will return here in April. Your letter – reply on this one I think will come here in the middle of April.
   My kiss from CIS.

Letter 32
27.03.92.

   Dear Brad, здравствуй!
   I have two your letters before me.
   Letter from 2.13.92. – thank-you for your hair – my favourite colour, my favourite cize. :)
   About invitation: I wrote what sort of information I need.

   – Your full name.
   – Date of birth.
   – Place of birth.
   – Where are working/studying in Japan (exact name of organization).
   – Your last visit in CCCP.
   – The purpose of the last visit.
   – Without that information I`ll not get invitation. (CIS officials are very curious as CIA). Please, send it. If you didn`t do it still.

   Letter from 2.19.92 . – Again.., your favourite theme… Not about sports, arts, science, etc – but about your favourite, yes, – sex – which includes all those (above), ne? Well, I develop it farther.
   By the way, due to your letters, my vocabulary is replenished with some bias./specific bias/.
   Your naughty, naughty, NAUGHTY, etc strokes make me smile. Your `shyness` is overflowing. You wrote you very like breasts – I`m not surprised – all people, even the best of them, in babyhood are such.
   `How big are mine?` – Unfortunately, I`m not such a `hostess with the mostest` as Sabrina. My parametres are quite middle 96-66-96. 170-60, 1966-07-07.
   You asked `why` – why `private parts`, `lower region`, `the penis` are considered as shameful? Not quite so. I do not say that it`s non-aesthetic, but sometimes the ethics prefer to avoid some `private parts` below the belt, even in `show-down`. You `re not sex-perverted, but maybe «сексуально озабоченный»
   `What part of man do I like?` – indeed, that is the question – worthy to gourmet! I`m not embarrasing to speak about it at all. Specially for you. (you can sing it in some motif, not too sad…):
   One cannibal has asked another:
   `What part of woman do you like?` –
   `Of course, the breasts` – `But I would rather
   Prefer the legs – I feel – they strike –
   Into my head, if in my sight
   I`ve caught the left one or the right.
   My `pen-is-heavy`, when I write
   About that, but as a knight
   I must refrain my urgent sighs
   Towards these nice and sweetest thighs.
   I am a gentleman of taste –
   I also like the eyes and waist,
   And too, some private parts excite
   Such lofty dream and appetite.
   Moreover, I would say «l`amour»
   As «je ne mange pas trois jours!»
   – Stand up and go, mon ami!
   Cherchez la femme – for you and me.
   Cherchez, mon cher, and just this once
   We`ll taste «“super” a la regence»…
   `Le cri du coeur` of Epicure
   Because of that aesthetic lure?
   Is it carnivorous? – I m sure
   In spite of all – they both are pure.
   /here I should like to write `and you`re`/
   Cherchez la femme, mon cher! – obscure? –
   But, c`est la vie… adieu! /Endure!../
   But if to speak seriously /if I can do it/:
   What part of man I notice at first? – legs! – yes! – long and slender legs inspire me to look into eyes. I adore grey eyes. Grey like the sky before the storm. And generally – `grey-matter`, i.e. intellect, even `dapple-grey-matter`, i.e. `naughty-intellect`. Why dapple? Remember: man fell with apple and with apple rose! – from naughty to haughty.. I`m not haughty, but too naughty / you see/. But I like `haughty` too.
   `Quite naughty rhymes about not quiet things`:

     Don`t connect
     My intellect
     With the bit of haughty
     I respect
     `Inborn defect`
     Such as `big-of-naughty`.
     I adore
     your greatest lore
     In the `making love`
     But prefer
     Something more
     Leading us `above`.

     Let`s explore
     `inborn defect`

     Leading us `above`.
     (On the `floor`
     We could collect
     Too, the greatest stuff.)
     Just before
     On the door
     I`ve killed an insect
     Ah – Encore!
     (I see one more
     Sitting in affect.)
     I suspect
     In aspect
     Leading us `about`
     In effect
     We should expect
     `being in knock-out`
     Here my store
     Of intellect
     Ends to outpore
     I implore
     Don`t dissect
     All that – but ignore!

   Perverted poetry, ne? Do you like my rhymes? – ah, yes, I know that you are very polite.
   Can you imagine, I`m always going to write something serious or poetical, but instead of that I beget something perverted. Confusing. But I do not apologize. C`est sorti du coeur, j`ai pleure et j`ai cru`. Simply, I replenish my vocabularly to our long-expecting second meeting. What is your success in Russian? I`ll teach you, in-appearance. Maybe, then we`ll be writing each other in both languages + in French. I can read just a little. Not long ago I translated one mathematical book written in French. So, I decided to devote next year to French language. At least – to read with dictionary.
   I wonder, how we`ll be talking here? To write on notepads? Ah, yes, you asked: `if there anything to bring?`
   First of all – bring yourself. Second – bring with you small-hand-hold dictionaries – R-E and E-R, + different dictionaries (slang, etc) and pens. (Don`t read it with `i` :) )
   In the last days of April I`ll go to Novosibirsk`s Academgorodok. That trip must define many things in my life. Generally, this spring is very important to me. Whole March I was on the North, being with my parents, running with father, playing chess with mother, waiting the spring and thinking about many-many things. The more we think the less we`re sure. Particularly when it`s cold. (March is winter`s month there). At last, the spring has come. Long expected spring… where is my long-expected love? – in autumn? In summer? Or died in that forgotten winter? Or lied? … at last the winter has finished, finished, finished!. –
   Лед тронулся, господа присяжные заседатели!
   Levez-vous, monsieur le comte, vous-avez de grandes choses a faire! Короче – stand up and fight! (Flight of slippers) – Fight + Flight = via dolorosa, viva dolorosa! Viva we!
   In first your letter you wrote: `Fight for your English to improve!` – yes, I`m fighting. Lazy fighter to improve, to disprove or prove.
   My parents advice me to enter to post-graduating studing or go in for chess seriously – instead of marriage.
   I`m sick of both (math+chess) +third, sick of all, disgust – of Present Indefinite+Past Continuing, of Future Simple, if to be only wife. My God! What a foolish life! – Without goal, without interest or any wish – in a global sense.
   For sake of sake? (it is your phrase) for sake of cake? For sake of case? – Well, life is Present Continuing. Every day, every night. Ah, my dear Knight!.. Oh, my God!.. Oh, my dog!.. My cat!.. My …– If to count all fauna (without knight :) ), then all flora, no! – let`s stop on cat. I like the cat. The cat is good! The cat is nice. She has nine lives and she is wise. I am not cat nor dog – but worse – by eastern horoscope – red horse. Is there a King who can say: `A horse, a horse! My kingdom for a horse!`
   To the point – 1970 –year of Dog… do you like it?
   It`s called `to talk idle-nonsense`. Here – the main – to stop in-time – better late than never.
   Good-bye!
   Larisa

Letter 33
12.04.92 day of cosmonautics.

   Dear Brad, здравствуй!
   I`ve received your letter from 3.3.92. thank you. I love your letters. I`ve written one reply then torn it and begin a new. Too marasmus.
   By the way – I feel the day when they come here. Today I saw you in night-dream.. so – your letter.
   By the way – I `ve found that I can speak English (with pauses). I `ve acquainted with christians from USA. And now – my vocabulary is replenished with one more theme – God. (They try to convert me to faith. Real gentlemen.) I`m reading the Bible. (Which was presented by you).
   I`m about to believe in something.
   Not long ago one foreteller in Buddhism`s center foretold my future. If, indeed, it `ll happen… oh, too incredible. It was my `idee-fixe`. But now…
   My life is too indefinite. A real citizen of CCCP. Life is cruel. My optimism is tired as me.
   How I was `lucky` to be born in such a time, in such a country! A terrible mess around. I`m not fighter. I`m a winded horse.
   Your words, (maybe, written accidently, as a habit) `Larisa, my girl`.. you don`t know how these are dear for me. In Russian it sounded so tender, the only – left in my heart after my love.
   In English it sounds strange, very strange. Well, let it be so. It`s not `cut my ears’. (Well, as if you are my first-invisible-lover. :) )
   For now my head is empty and sleepy. One christian said:`I`ll be praying about you`. It`s said such seriously, with sincerity – I was touched. Are you christian? (Catholic? Or something other)
   How was your travel to home? Did you see your Michelle? How is your business? – I wish to you success. (So – it must be successful, as I am a magician – I`ll be this one according foretelling.)
   I remember your face from that trip in the train. Very clearly, and want to see, to look again is it exist or not – i.e. one picture I had seen that time as a magician. Don`t afraid of me. I`m good. :) In my family such thing had place.
   I like your anecdotes – corner in a circular room – fine! – thank you! As for me – I could not find a corner even if I was `driven into the corner`. As now. A real life is knocking in my door. I`m looking for a job. Having a true diplom of one of the best University in CCCP, but as a mathematician I`m equal to 0. As a wife = -00. I `ve torn with `him`, but not to the end. The last word left for him. I hate man`s tears. I hate, i.e. feel myself as a real swine. `Be compassionate` – it`s from the Bible. So, I`m sitting, thinking, creating foolish rhymes in Russian, writing letters to friends, listening music, bearing a decision, trying to look into my future, and see nothing.
   Today I saw one Japanese film `Empire of the senses`. Not porno, but difficult to see for soviets, with our outlooks about sex, etc. Half-of-people left cinema during showing. My cousin was sitting nearby with closed eyes. However, it`s the Art indeed. Speech was not so about sex, but maybe, about tragedy of unattainability.
   Also I want to see `Gone with the wind` which I read a month ago.
   Now I`m reading some occult books, trying to understand what is what – from the view-point of a real materialist. From the view-point of consciousness-subconsciousness.
   Also I read Robert Frost. I like one thing:

     Something inspires the only cow of late
     To make not more of a wall than an open gate,
     And think no more of a wall-builders than fools.
     Her face is flecked in pomace and she drools
     A cider syrop. Having tasted fruit,
     She scorns a pasture withering to the root.
     She run from tree to tree where lie and sweeten
     The windfalls spiked with stubble and worn-eaten.
     She leaves them bitten when she has to fly.
     She bellows on a knoll against the sky.
     Her ader shrivels and the milk goes dry. / -------
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   By the way – what is Mickey Mouse paper? I `ve not got it. What means `if you`d like me to, send it back`. Is it game?
   `Have a good sex`? – thank you – the same to you. :)
   As for me – I have more important things to do.
   `AK-47` – I don`t know. It`s illegal. I`ll try, but not promise.
   I see you like sports cars? Perhaps – you drive cars well. Please send your pictures with this cars – Ferrari, Lamburgini, Corvett, Mersedes-Benz – I never saw it. (If it will not bother you.) What else? Generally – send your pictures. (where is your voice-tape?)
   Now I`m going to Academgorodok. To see my friends.
   /////
   Maybe to write you in Russian? Russian slang: `шиза косит наши ряды` = craze. Such is my mood. Крыша едет = craze.
   And more – no – when I write to you, I cannot think in Russian. Only in Runglish. It`s funny – sedulous seducer or sad sadist? `Russian millionaire`, `Russian business` or `Russian gentleman` – sounds strange, maybe `Russian Lady` too.
   In short – I wish you all the happiness and I wish to you too, a real love and joy. So – not farewell, your sincerely – Larisa. Brad, my boy…
   Это мой русский крэйз = craze.
   Сижу, строчу и выбрасываю. Окаменели извилины, серое вещество содрогнулось и побледнело.
   Сижу, злюсь и выплескиваю свое настроение на невинно-чистую бумагу. Поэтический бум. Недержание речи.

     ///
     К утру
     Я, наверно, умру, -
     И безрадостный след свой сотру
     С безнадежно-пустынной планеты,
     Обращенной лицом к медяку,
     Про который слагают сонеты,
     Расплодившись повсюду, поэты…
     Кану.
     Наверно, в нирвану.
     И навек излечу свою рану,
     И блаженно замру, не дыша,
     Погрузившись в холодную ванну…
     О, как рвется и стонет душа!
     Может просто полить из ковша?..
     Осанна!
     Никакой мне не надо нирваны,
     Я бы – в джунгли, в пампасы, в саванны!!!
     Или в Канны…
     C`est la vie…

   По-русски это называется «извращаться». Об этом можно говорить: «Бред», «Сюр», «Крэйз» .
   Бред – also mean to create some craze, fantastical thing, i.e. «смонстрячить» – from the word `monster`. It`s used as a word of admiration, if you call somebody `monster`. F.e. «Ну ты монстр!» или «Ну ты блин вааще!» = this is a thing of highest admiration, sounds literally ~ `Well, you are a pan-cake in general!` – this is a slang accepted in Novosibirsk University. Also admiration can be expressed with words: «монстр!», «забой!», «ну, вааще!», «таски!», «супер!», etc. when I hear these words I know that the one was studing in my University.
   One my cousin is student of foreign department, not long ago she received (from London) one dictionary of slang and Bible. Next week I`ll take it to read a little. I have a dictionary of dirty-slang of Russian, printed in USA for american students.
   I`m waiting our meeting not only as a practice in English. I`m waiting. So long.
   Generally – come here.
   With love – Larisa.
   I write without black-copy. So – keep it.

     Сень весенних берез.
     Тень сосны.
     Со сна – ветер в шорах –
     запутался в шторах –
     шорох засохших роз, –
     и мороз в душе.
     – душно все же. –
     похоже скоро гроза. –
     заноза в сердце с утра засела –
     все надоело –
     заело в доску!
     Тоска…
     Хочется выть,
     ныть,
     причитать,
     вспоминать свою мать-
     страну и орать –
     не забуду её, родную!
     Аллилуйя! – благим матом.
     Не ропщи, атом!
     Смирись,
     не искУшай богов, человече! –
     постись –
     и молись! – бо не вечен ты, –
     не прощен, но измучен извечным –
     быть или не быть? – да буду! – всуе..
     Бить или не бить
     посуду,
     да, буду! – ликуя!
     Пусть разбегутся соседи
     этажом ниже
     или сбегутся сюда как медведи –
     они же, – с бранью на устах.
     Эй, этажом выше!
     Вы там потише,
     пожалуйста…
     Как все они надоели…
     Я бы букет камелий
     поставила на окно –
     и села рядом плакать,
     совсем как в плохом кино.
     ненавижу слякоть!
     Куда бы сбежать от постылой прозы?..
     Пошло шуршат засохшие розы, –
     не камелии… –
     окаменели слезы,
     и грёзы.
     И грозы прошли стороной.
     Постой, прохожий – мне грустно…
     Боже, как вытоптан шар земной! –
     грузной стопой
     расплющен в монету и вызлащен –
     в дар Нумизмату-Богу.
     (Котлету поэту! –
     ибо бездарно изжив свой век –
     имярек – канет – в Лету.)
     Впрочем, неважно все это…
     Итак –
     обрядившись в тогу,
     гордо выставив ногу –
     вот так –
     Живи, человек…

   Called «сюр» or `mood`, a la Larisa
   For you it`ll be an exersice in Russian. Do you agree with me? I`m writing such things when I feel myself very bad, it cures my mood.
   ////

Letter 34
I forget the exact date I think 21 or 22.04.92

   Dear Brad, здравствуй!
   Today is a terrible weather. Snow-rainy storm. Cold and windy. But I have your warm letter from 31.03.92. thank you.
   I`ll begin to make you invitation tomorrow. But it can take much time ~ month. Such is a survival of Socialism.
   Now I`m moving to another place. As the holder of this flat must return from Moscow soon. So I`ve toted all things to another place – for a short while. What further – really I don`t know while. There began an ordeal – comfortless life on the luggages. Now I`m sitting in an empty flat.
   The weather is bad, electricity switches off from time to time. I`m afraid of darkness. And ghosts. Even of shadows. Generally I`m a great coward. Even I`m afraid to listen to horrible folk-tales or to see horror-films (thriller?)
   To the point:
   A: What is the most horrible thing in the world?
   B: A drunk Russian.
   A: What is more horrible than a drunk Russian?
   B: A crowd of drunk Russians.
   What is CIS? – I suspect – Crowd of Indignant Sheeps.
   (but officially: Commonwealth of Independent States? – I`m not quite sure, but it seems to me that.)
   Buryatia is a state, inside of Russia.
   In local leaderships – set of sheeps. They lead our respublic called SET (State of Evergreen Tomatos) to capitalism (or to civil war).
   In Ulan-Ude the red flag left the only in CIS, officially, but maybe because they`re lazy to change it.
   My Michail is not politician. (not `my` too). Only deputy of city`s soviet. Quite talkative though. He is a simple soviet businessman, but quite `popular in local masses`. He is trying to become very rich man, so I call him `millionaire` and `ever-rising star`. So, our inflation may turn all of us to be millionaires. As, f.e. this winter `his` car (Sputnic – VAZ – 2193) was cost 1000000 roubles, (one year ago it`s price was 16000 roubles)

   You can ride a soviet car here, though on our roads (more exact – roadlessness) it`ll be a tiring occupation. My favourite car – Volga – GAZ – 2401. It`s a car of my good friend, who promised me AK-47 for you to shoot (in KGB-house). To the point it was today, he promised me AK-47, a riding horse, Baikal, etc – for you. He has a black-belt so he interested with your person, as sportsman. Have you got your black belt in Aikido?
   I think all my friends will be glad to you. Generally, you`ll be very `popular in masses` here. `Girls have fallen in love with him from the first sight`. For your `big lust` here will be a great area of deeds. `Sedulous seducer – restless in chess`. Ah, yes, we`ll go to a rifle-range to see who is a greatest shooter. And play chess – to see who is wisest. And other plays – to see who is who. What is your level in chess?
   Yes, I`ll be pleased to see you. I`ll do all in my power for you to feel here quite comfort – more or less. For sake of it I restored my relationship with Michail, and engagement too. It was a great quarrel between us. Now – peace (on the volcano) – Tibi gratias! Without his help I could not meet you here. Yes, I like you. I too, wait for your letters every day. I too, like all kinds of men. (but Russian type greater). I like slim guys (very slim, slender, thin, too thin as skeleton – seriously!), with grey-eyes (what is your color?), `grey-grey` eyes like sky, even like clouds – tearful clouds. I like short hair, sharming smile, Russian language, a bit of cheerful cynicism (or naughty?) + lyricism – too, a bit. I like a man of character, character from A to W, which involve in or consist of all manners of good + evil. Such people are interesting for me. Harmonious people?
   When I read your letters I`m trying to guess your character – indeed from naughty-naughty guy to very touching child; from over-free to tender-poetical ~ quite harmonious! To the point – how about your throat and teeth (you wrote about ache).
   It would be such interesting to see how you write letters, your face during that. ( I write with smile, cheerful smile, even if I write tearful-poetical or pathetic things). The `most naughty` of your letters was about your beloved parts of woman(`s body). Such was my impression that you wanted to shock me. Your question about dimention of my breasts – ну вааще! – nobody asked me about it besides you. Have you received rhymes about it, devoted personally to you (as all my English poetry). I wanted to send one foto of mine (coloured) with all parts of me, but my shyness + your shyness… it was a test foto, `nude-natura`. One man wanted me to become his photo-model, but my shyness… – I was afraid that my parents can see that calendar. (not porno, but erotic). And – to be a model, it`s the same as if … (I don`t know how it in English – I have not dictionary with me.) and generally, I am old for it. And my body too. I am afraid to wear off in front of man. Or to see a nude, and generally – below the belt, even if wear on.
   I heard that in western countries is accepted `nude-beach`. And nudism in general. What is your attitude to that?
   What means nudist? – Nudist is New-(year)-man, who comes before New Year to make us happy. Perhaps he`s Santa Clause. Sadist = a gentleman – forever sad. Perhaps he is poet. Can nudist make happy to sadist? Yes, he can. It`s an idle talking…
   Today my throat hurts. Because I was singing in darkness, when switch off, – revolution songs against my fear. Such amusing to sing in an empty room. Echo of voice sounds strange. So my poor throat! – I am whispering to you : `Brad` echo replies `Red`. My voice is weak, generally in life I cannot speak aloud, and long. Maybe, only write.
   I often think about your invisibleness. About my platonical love to you-in-invisibleness. What will be in appearance? As shadows in semi-darkness (candle burns) seems so grand, so mystic – and day-light kills all mystery?
   But day-light good in itself too. It begets another – laughter, cheerfulness, a real life. Though, I write banality.
   Page is ending. I send to you a picture of my friend who imagine meeting of karate-men.
   If you don`t receive me for a long time – it`s not my guilt, such is our mail. I reply the same day throwing all business away. So – so long.
   My sweetest kiss and love – Larisa.
   Хочется черкнуть тебе пару строк по русски. Но, щадя твое терпение, не буду, в прошлом письме я, вроде, что-то подобное, не помню конкретно, черкнула. Кажется, стихи – вряд ли ты их хоть прочел. By the way, how many languages do you know? I think – many. It`s fine. So young and know such many languages.
   To the point, one my best friend today has married. I`ve received invitation to wedding, but due to our mail – too late. She was my best friend, the same ages with me. But her husband – 20 or even 19!!! Student still. It was sensation for me. Though, maybe she is right. In such ages would be too difficult to have accustomed to husband of the same ages. I`d rather marry with old man. To grow up under his influence, grateful wife-as-daughter. If I were at her place – to bring up my own child-husband? Pure soul, not destructed still. Oh, if I were in such a situation, I would bring up genious man, or something great. Though such sedulous teacher as me should be far away from children. -------
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!
   Idle talking though.
   Now I`m thinking what would happen if you were here.
   You knock my door. (Bell is absent – torn out). I open. Pause… !!? – my God! Man alive! Hello! – hi! Come in, please. How have you got my home? Put your umbrella in corner. Would you like to tea? Or coffee? Or drink? Sit-down, please.
   You are so in-time. I am so alone and fear of stupid shadows. Teapot is ready. Feel yourself comfortly. Excuse the emptiness of the flat. I am moving.
   Let`s play chess, maybe. ( in your last letter you suggest it).
   Well! – but as a gentleman you give me an advantage. You are playing without one `horse`. Game first:1)e2-e4, e7-e5; 2)Cf1-c4, Cf8-c5; 3)Фd1-а3, d7-d6; 4) Фf3-f7! – I win! Don`t play fool, please. Let`s play as `equal partners`.
   Game 2.
   1)e2-e4; e7-e5… suddenly, such is CIS – electricity switch off again. Where is my candle? I cannot find. We smoking and drinking. Darkness, cover of night, storm, …. Don`t tell me horrors. Tell me something cheerful of your life.
   You are invisible again, even beside me. Such is our Fate – invisibleness. You`re hidden in darkness, as a ghost. Well, I am a witch. I am not afraid of your invisibleness. I hear your voice, I touch your shoulder, I … kiss you… darkness…
   Darkness…
   Suddenly, in the most unsuitable moment electricity has switched on. What a curio! Curtains are absent, window is defenceless. `Adult movies` for neighbours, living in an opposite house. No! No… no…
   Darkness is better! Let it be!

     DARKNESS… STORM… MYSTERY – and so on
     `Chess` + `so on`
     Knight and witch are playing chess
     Light is switched off – what a mess!
     No one will know how
     They are playing chess for now.
     You and me sinse now know
     How white is snow, though
     Now snow is not so
     White and I can show: go
     Out! Look below! – wow!
     No snow at all – oh, thou!
     You are Santa Claus for now
     Though now`s rain – oh, no!
     How?! – yes, my word of Cow-
     Boy and also – I can show!…
     Night is crazy – more or less.
     Darkness… they are playing chess….
     Never sinse the World`s creation
     Was the such an inspiration…
     … Morning… headache… devastation…
     They are praying for salvation.
     Suddenly, with great damnation
     (what a godless generation!)
     And without annotation –
     One fond glance at him she darted
     Gasped for joy with pale lips parted
     Then fell back upon her bed
     And, without hesitation,
     After prayer-part was dead…
     What the moral of this story?
     Where is happy-end and glory?
     If I were a real Tory
     (if the spelling wrong – I`m sorry)
     Then instead of words `was dead`
     I would write `ful speed ahead!`
     (here`s tear of admiration)!
     … in my tiring declamation –
     I have made a waiting pause…
     Yes, I wait for… Santa Claus.

   Chess is – by the way – too hard.
   So – what about card?
   NAUGHTY, naughty, naughty, naughty, etc
   Good-bye!
   My kiss, wellcome to CIS!
   With love – Laris.

Letter 35
Tonight is maybe 28-29 april, 92.

   To my very «modestest Knight with twoo-o-o beautifulest legs» – from «the most bestest bestial Russian-Witch».
   Dear Brad, здравствуй!
   How are you? Are your things well?
   What are you doing?
   I `ve received your letter. Thank you. Yes, I remember you, particularly that part of you which is `two-o`. And eyes too… I am not quite sure, are they grey or not. I only remember that both (legs and eyes) were nice. (eyes= as nice as legs).
   Your `dapple grey matter`, yes, I like it.
   Very strange is your last letter. At first – so quickly, – unexpected, nevertheless I `heard` the voice (of Fortune?) from the morning which repeated `letter`. I phoned to my cousin – hello – here you are!
   So – I `ve received this one – very precise and concise.
   At second – it`s written as if by not your own hand. Maybe such is your natural spelling, or maybe, you were hurry.
   Information is in-time. I`ll rewrite a form tomorrow.
   Thank you for `Princesses`. Sounds like in folk-lore. Usually in folk-tales Princess are too sleepy – they are sleeping and sleeping, until some curious one or a lost sheep awakes them – upon his head. «His favourite occupation – to awake Princesses`». I wonder, are there Princesses` which suffering from sleeplessness? I often suffer from it at night. But in the morning… yes, definitely Princess.
   I`d like to suffer from morning-sleeplessness. Perhaps, it would be the most useful suffering, ne?
   I dream to get up with the sun – not only in December.
   When one is contemplating the rising of the sun he`s happy, youthful. This light can reach the heart and fill it with a pure, childish love to the world, Earth. God. Though, I like the starry sky.
   The starry sky makes us dreamy, poetic, crazy. It fills all around with the mystery. All seems strange, but strange becomes natural. So I like to write letters to you at night, when my grey matter becomes black or starry, or dapple.
   Now I am sitting in a new appartment. I have not still accustomed to it. I prefer my old one. Here were much of cockroaches.
   Excuse me for such a tasteless theme before your breakfast. Today I had a witch-hunting. I was killing them, and during this prosaic occupation I `ve found myself to be a real poet, indeed. So, listen to :

   =`Churchy chant about Witch-Hunt`. /in imitation of ancients/=
   Such a touched God`s creature – a cock-roach which
   Is approaching here – oh, son of a bitch!
   Well, I switch on the lamp, I am itching to teach
   Him a lesson of Lynch – inch-by-inch – with a speech
   Which is preaching and teaching and touching and rich
   In a solemn Great-Mighty-True-Freedom in each
   Bit of language which has to seduce and bewitch
   Each of Who is, unfortunately, within reach
   Of my Just Slipper which hits without a hitch,
   Even if all of them fight up `to-o-o the last ditch`.
   But – to each – just his own, to each – `Sunny Beach`!
   Such a `teached` Lynch-Law-Lesson… Amen…
   =Huntress-Witch=.

   To the point:
   A: what do you think – cockroaches exist in America or not?
   B: Silly fool! – how could they swim across the ocean.?!
   ///
   The matter is dropped. My head is empty. Usually in such a case one begins to talk about the weather. Today is a crazy weather – `sunny morning, warm+nice, then rainy, snowy, cold and terrible. It seems to me that I `ve caught a cold. I feel frost inside, and my lips become dry and chapped. Maybe I have a temperature. The best healer is a cup of vodka with pepper / such is a folk-remedy/ and a warm bed. / and `bed-heater`!!!/ too, folk-remedy. :)
   Indeed very cold, inside and outside. This spring is very crazy, I never saw such a weather in this region.
   By the way, if someone in my teen-age said me that I`ll have an american friend, fond of him – I could not believe. Though, I was too trustful, maybe, if I knew about it I could begin to study English from childhood. Certainly we had English lessons in school, from 5 form ~12 y.o. But those were for proforma. After such lessons we could speak as:
   How much watch? – Six watch! – Such much? – Such-such.
   Today I explained to one my American friend the sense of few Runglish jokes. She told me American ones. We become friends with her. She is Christian, preaching here and teaching English, studing Russian. Today we taught each other some phrases. My talking practice, due to her, becomes bearable, an active vocabulary grows up. Most of all I like to hear a living speech and, to my great surprise, understand it. By the way, americans indeed – (how to speak in English?) ~ look not like soviets. Maybe because they are Christians. I cannot say that they are fanatics, but something strange is in eyes. Maybe, too good, quiet eyes, without a bit of `naughty` or `haughty`. And Americans are too polite. And sing well. Such an impression that English is invented to sing. Now I`ve learned their song `God is good`.
   Though I cannot sing, (not because «the Bear has trodden my ear», but he frightened me slightly), so I do it sometimes to frighten cockroaches or ghosts. Generally I cannot do something with my voice – to speak aloud, to sing, to cry. Maybe, because of that in childhood I was a terrible stutterer (because of that Bear:) ) and had been keeping silence till school. And now it slightly exists as a `charm` when too great emotions – good or bad – come on me. I fear I`ll stutter during our meeting. => Bear with me! – No, I`d rather will keep a thoughtful pause. – Though, you see, I am a great talker. Difficult to stop me. Again, because of a stuttering in childhood, maybe. Till 7 years old…
   My grandmother cured me many times – with some special folk ceremony (accepted among ekhirit-bulagats of buryats who I am) called `Ik-cury rite`. – In summer days we got up before the sun (how it was terrible!!!), and had to make three circles – clockwise – around that place where I `lost my soul` (if impossible – round the own court), repeating words «Ik-cury», er nasha!» (Ik-cury, come here!)`+other words, calling that powerful «Ik-cury» – 10 days without a break(!),– twice a day – just before sunrise+before sunset.
   Stuttering considered as if child was frightened by smth and his soul left his body and stayed on that place. When it happens not with child, but adult – in that case his soul, jumping out from body – not leaves there, but follows him, so he constantly feels somebody`s appearance behind him. It`s his `lost soul` knocking and praying to take it inside again. It`s very unpleasant feeling, particularly at night, when you alone (not you, but me :) ). Unfortunately, that child, who lost his soul once, even after curing – may lose it from time to time, again and again, like me – (but if WITHOUT curing – third time `to lose soul` means = `DEATH`, indeed this third =the «Third Weird»), so – we should cure it well, almost every summer. Because every winter I was lucky to lose it again, and became stutterer as ever. First time I lost it in contact with ghosts in babyhood, my mother talked me that, `cause our house was built on the place of old graveyard, and ghosts were our `very-often` guests. Since then it happens from time to time. The last time it was winter`89. It was very mystic situation and SO terrible, you know I`m lucky to find myself in different unbelievable stories, – my soul jumped out SO far, – I`m still not sure I`m alive or not. (Maybe, it was that third time, yes, that «Third Weird»). Sometimes it`s seems to me that it`s not my life, but as if – after my death – my soul or fantom of me is dreaming in some space and looking «movie» about my «possible life» as «what and how could it be, if I was not so stupid that time»… However, I feel that my soul followed me – always, not gad somewhere, – not wandering in space, but – with me – behind! Even I couldn`t open my back to empty space – I felt as if cold wind stab in the back, and I couldn`t bear when someone went behind me, – l saw myself as if: imagine – I go and my soul is dragging behind me and someone who follows me, hurts me, trampling that dragging invisible «smth» with his/her heels, (alas, not «heals»). I felt a real pain between my scapulas. Real physiological pain!!! /// Or pine (splinter ) in spine? :) // …Oh, God! What a nonsence I`m talking!.. Being in-born atheist!!! …
   Sorry, what was my speech about? Thus… circle clockwise… 3 times… and people… the more the better… at least one of relatives, holding sweets on plates… oh, my poor brothers!… – in short – during 10 days the unlucky child (hated with brothers for that) must get up such early that his indignant and exhausted subconsciousness decided in despair to not stutter at all. As soon as possible – the quick the better! Then they all rejoice – till next summer… :)
   ….
   The end of the letter arrives before us, so I bid you my heart, kiss to lips and put a point.
   With love – Larisa
   //tomorrow//
   P.S. I look forward waiting fully, I long, oh, how I long, when your long+handsome legs will come here, to excite my poet`s mood. What is the colour of your eyes, indeed? At the pictures they are red, maybe, because of flash. Or not? Or, maybe, you are a vampire? Thirsting Princess of Empire? Vampire-bat-man flies to kiss her… and awake from dream… or from life? She opens eyes – wow! – Her eyes are too, too `red`, as a flag of her Empire. He awakes in horror!!!
   Don`t fret, mine – brown! I could send you a color picture of me to confirm that. Don’t wonder, such is a quality of our photo, that instead of a noble pallor – my face – as if slightly touched with carrot. (Or vampire kissed her at supper? :) )
   I don`t know what will be the speech about. Maybe, about English. I `ve acquainted with AMERICAN Christians. One of them become my friend. We talked about the BIBLE. To tell the truth, such an impression that atheists believe in God more than Christians. At least more closer to God; it`s if to consider from the view-point of human freedom. In one book of Dostoevsky I `ve read one thought about Christianity and indeed I agree with it.
   There: Christ has a conversation with Pope (or with Inquisitor), – about true belief. At last Christ says to Pope: `I want people to come to me being free inside – not for salvation, not for defence, not for wonder` (i.e. grow up inside to be as Godlike, child of God).
   Pope answers: `they cannot be free and believe to God`, so they believe in something /outside power/ – that forgives, saves, etc, ~ i.e. men lose their inborn freedom, – freedom of inlimitness. Of course, it`s not needed so. ~~~~~~ I `ve lost in words. I`m sorry.
   Let`s talk about – (here – `sex` was discussed quite well) – weather?
   Yesterday was a crazy weather: sunny, rainy, windy, snowy, etc.
   I `ve caught a cold (a little). The best healer is a cup of vodka with pepper, or a `french-diet`. But usually the `french-diet` is used for growing thin. Do you know what is it? – Here is says: «ночь секса и кусочек кекса – если не помогает – от кекса отказаться». I will not translate, because our talk again may fall into `sex`. Try yourself.
   I like to be ill – (all day in bed with book). Particularly when it`s cold. Tomorrow I have a meeting with one American. I have practised with her. So, don`t afraid, at least I`ll be able to speak about our city, weather, me, you, sex, God. My active vocabulary is not too poor, nor rich. But my pronounciation! – nobody in the world has such a terrible accent. And more, I speak better, if by fingers I feel a pen. (Not with «is»!) Spelling is more convenient for me. (Pardon, writing. But spelling too, `cause I`m witch. :) ) Strange? At any case, we`ll understand each other, ne? I see, you like to play chess – we`ll play chess, cards, etc.
   You`ll get here unforgettable impressions. I think I wrote to you about `shooting from AK-47`. One my friend promised me that. Maybe, you want also, to shake hand to KGB-ist? Or to a sheep from our leadership? To kiss Russian girl? Buryat? To the point – do in Japan exist such people as geisha still? A modern geisha is good or bad? Do you like them?
   Now I listen to tape-recorder. One friend has brought to me one tape with old records – 15-16 years ago – I adore it. I remember in my childhood these were prohibited to listen as a `pernicious propaganda + influence of a `Rotten West`. `Rotten West` was often used as a characteristic of Capitalism, such often that becomes an idiom, or `Savage West`.
   Strange was that time. In my golden childhood only one thought clouded my existance: «Why they (americans) `kindle the war` and when, at last, will happen the all-world socialistic revolution?» And now – hello, my American – (defender? :) , Lover? :) ) – but friend!
   Your pernicious influence, such as `lower region` + `lover region` + `cover of night`. Or it`s my `pernicious propaganda`?
   Such long letter… If you not fall asleep reading it… ah, sleeping? Ну, ты, блин, вааще!
   Я тут перед ним распинаюсь… распинаюсь… на кресте… А он дрыхнет себе сладко и смотрит сны… А вдруг обо мне? Ну, тогда не буду будить… Бай-бай…
   Well, then – Bye-Bye! …
   Larisa.

Letter 36
19 May`1992 day of Pioneers!

   Dear Brad, здравствуй!
   Today is one of my favourite days in childhood: Day of Soviet Pioneer! And generally I Love all may holidays – particularly 9May – Day of the Victory! But it`s too sacred for us, indeed with tears we celebrate it. Many movies about that war were on TV before 9 May – I could not see them without tears. My grandfather went throught all this war from 30.06.41 until May`45. I heard before Kursk arc he was wounded, maybe it saved him…But not saved from arrest and 10 years in camps after war. I don`t like war! Even thought of it make me unhappy.
   So, 10 days after that tearful Memory`s Day we celebrated Day of Pioneer. To tell the truth we not so celebrated it in that time, in childhood, but only now we begin to congratulate each other with this great day. The older we become the dearest become this day for heart. Maybe it`s not so day of pioneer, as a day of our own childhood. Oh, how I loved my red pioneer scarf! And Pioneer`s camps… (do not be terrified, it were not childish conc.camps :) ). We sang about Pioneer Fire at night…
   I say – `WE SANG` without a drop of confusion… Can you imagine I have no voice at all, but I always had to stand in first ranks – in every chorus!!! (in school, in camps, etc) and only to make semblance that I sing… What a shame! Why? What for?.. It was very suffering for me to stand whispering, diligently keeping inspired face? Terrible!..
   Very fun story happened once in camp. We sang one pioneer`s song `Young Eaglet` on the camp`s competition. Just after `Eaglet` was my solo on «bayan» during which I was bruttaly bitten by wasps. Longlive to God! – It happened during staccato-part! So I made no mistakes. :) It was an affecting spectacle for all! – Young eaglet – with gnashing of teeth and `wasps on knees`!.. After that I became SUCH fierce-stepmother for Cinderella, that eclipsed her on the scene! But in folk dance, next to Cinderella, I couldn`t beat `Russian tap-dance` correctly. I didn`t feel my legs well. That was very shameful for me, but my comrades-eaglets forgave me. And jury did not reduce our marks. They were impressed by heroic endurance of a real soviet pioneer, (with wasps). A real Young Eaglet! (But I threw music school after gotten `trauma in psyche`… :) L)
   Night on the yard…
   …I am listening Sting – `Straight to my heart`
   Indeed, straight to my heart… (stranger in my heart)
   But! I never love you as a foreigner! Only as a stranger. It is not poor and stupid pride of `rouble` before a powerful $. It is not speech of pioneer or drunkard.
   – `It is my soul – «thin, bleeding and suffering :) » – as said one of my friends about herself one day.
   Page is ending. But I could talk, and talk, and talk to eternity. Such is my tongue – without bones. /that can make happy any `soft-toy`. :) / I am naughty.
   You`re a noble knight – understand and forgive all my foolish words./
   You could be an American soldier; we could be enemies and kill each other.
   Imagine us, shooting (into) each other. Terrible.

     Я снайпер, холодеет кровь,
     когда на мушке – образ милый…
     Ну почему ты не морковь?
     Тогда б сгодились даже вилы -

     и – в бок! – и побоку! и так,
     и сяк, – и бяк-бяк-бяк – и дале.
     и прыг-прыг-прыг, и бум, и шмяк!
     и лишь в конце – my kiss и vale!

     Увы, не есть ты корнеплод.
     Ты фрукт – заморский – дар Эдема…
     И тот ещё! – запретный плод –
     Есть иль не есть? – Да уж, дилемма…

   Can you shoot?
   I can – from my childhood, with a rifle. Even one day I was a champion of my University in shooting.
   We had in school such a subject as a `military training`, not so training, but some abstract, senseless knowledgements – such as `What soldier must do if he`s found himself in the epicentre of atomic bomb exploding? – To hold his weapon in hands outstretched as far as possible – for the drops of molten iron doesn`t cause damage to state uniform`.
   In University we had such a subject `civil defence`. (From american men :) )
   (Defence `from`, or `of`, or `for`J, or `against` – what`s correct? I do not feel.)
   These subjects were only for `common education`, so we ignored them or had other occupations on those lessons – such as homework for other subjects, reading belleslettres or even card-or-chess playing, etc, – during them.
   But shooting… It`s a heat – excitement!. I like to shoot. Sometimes I go to shooting-gallery. But my eyes are not so exact as in youth, – not so cruel as youth.
   I was indeed, like an iron comissar till 18-19 years old.
   Once I was a sport leader of our group in 2 year studing. What insect had bitten me? – I decided that we all must run every morning. I held a speech before our group. With burning eyes I told them smth about `bright future` in the name of which we must run, about Greek ancients who cured all illness with running, I cited Mayakovsky`s poem, etc. And group was doomed to agree with me. So – whole autumn I got up at 6 o`clock to run along the hostel – awaking my group. Even one girl who had problem with her leg – after trauma it couldn`t bend – even she couldn`t avoid my pityless hand knocking her door – and she ran with us, with pleasure, however…
   Indeed I believed it`s good for all. And in the name of such `good` I could be such an iron comissar.
   But now – hardly I could awake myself to run – neither for `future` – I couldn`t see it, nor for own health… Бред… Why do I tell you that?
   …
   It`s strange – to make love to foreigner-stranger… to talk with him into darkness in broken language.
   What could be the language common for both? –
   Maybe – dictionary for all occasions?
   Or language of Love – tongue, lips, hands, legs, motions, (rhythm:) ), gestures – dance?
   My favourite occupation is dance – (not only sexual:) )
   I could dance through out whole night in `marathon-dance` without tiring and resting. One day I won a Queen-of-Dance-88.
   Now when I go to N-sk, first of all I go to dancing-hall.
   Do you like to dance?
   I like to see all sorts of dance: folk, modern, ballet, avangard, classic, etc.
   But if to dance – I didn`t had, unfortunately, any `dance-school` besides Russian-folk in childhood; my school was – discotheque. Yet, I feel a `dance-thirst`. I dance something average of all, – according to music, mood, hall, quantity of alcohol in blood :) , etc.
   Are you drinking or not?
   I heard that America now is a `dry continent`, particularly, Canada. What in Japan?
   Do not consider me as a confirmed `Russian-drunkard`, my first alcohol experience was in 20 years old. But sometimes, I like to do it, not too much.
   Are you a teatotaller, drinking only soft drink?
   May I tell you one anecdote?

   Scene, auditorium. Three men on scene boost soft drinks.
   1-american: «Drink only `Coca-Cola` and your …m-m…`cock` will become 5 sm longer!»
   Auditorium: Prolong applause.
   2-american: «Drink only `Pepsi-Cola` and your `cock` will become 1 sm thicker!»
   Auditorium: Loud applause.
   3-caucasian: «Drink only «Тархун» and your `cock` shall become as good as melon».
   Auditorium: Silence… and only one agitated woman`s voice: «Please, explain, – in length or width?»
   Caucasian: «Dear, my speech is, for a while, only about gustatory sense».

   Isn`t it obscene talking? Is such thing accepted there? Do you like it?
   Can you endure such a naughty woman as me.
   Am I naughty? – I make silence – nothing sacred to me – I must be expelled from Pioneers – so long. Lara

Letter 37
14.06.92

   My sweet, my dearest! – in mirth
   I shout for all one is worth:
   «You are the Sugar of the Earth!
   (`cause you are sweet and so forth)»… :)
   Dear, Brad, здравствуй!
   How are you?
   I `ve received your letter typed on PC, ful of smiles, big smiles + your pictures. You get prettier day by day /or day after day or from day to day or in broad daylight?
   I was thinking few days what to write about =?

   Well, – the weather is terrible. May was too hot. June began with frost – 12C!!. All berries are killed, i.e. frozen, much of vegetables too. So, we expect a terrible autumn. It`s sad. I`m too, sad, i.e. frozen, as hot water is switched off for 10 days in our region. So I take a cold douche. Usually, every morning I switch on warm water and stand under it, sleeping and lazy, then I switch off hot water and awake at last, under cold streams. It`s easier, but now… – terrible. Nevertheless, I like to take cold shour/douche, – gladly, with weeping+gnashing of teeth.
   I`m reading the Bible. Now I know that I am a sinner. I threw smoking. The kitten-pussy of my cousin scratched my hands. Brutally. And she can bite too. Terrible animal. Terrible life…(I`m continuing to complain)
   My mood is dreary. Because of the Bible. As tonight I`ve read `The revelation to John`. Do you believe in all that?!! What is the idea of Christianity? Many writers understand it in different ways. I like the version of Dostoevsky. If he is right, I like Christianity, I admire of Jesus.
   But according to Borches – ?!! did you read Борхес? Read his `3 versions of Juda`s betrayall`.
   But when we discuss this theme with American Christians, I find – that we understand the same words in different ways. Generally – confusion.
   I hope, we (you and I) will discuss it, i.e. the Bible, Christianity, and so forth, in case if you are a Christian still. It would be ironically for me to become a Christian. Hardly. As – even if I accept it, I cannot believe with all heart as it`s broken, at many fragments, one of them belongs to the Bible. However, if the Bible is a parable, it`s not contradict to my outlooks.
   A terrible mess in my head due to all that.
   Tomorrow I`ll read anti-Bible.
   Generally, life is not so sweet as sugar.
   To the point, not long ago here was our President – Ельцин. I saw him due to my american friends. They dragged me there. Three of them shook his hand + so happy.
   My happiness was more restrained, as my feet were trodden in that crowd.
   Now one thing has come upon my atheistic head. i.e. next step to God?, next passion? – Christianity! I read the Bible. New Testament. And I want to find Old Testament – in both languages.
   I ask myself: `Do I believe in God?` and cannot reply. I accept, but don`t believe. Sometimes I`m sure that God exist, my spirit rejoicing.
   But again – doubts. – O you of little faith! Why did you doubt? But who has that seed of faith which can `change relief` = (move mountains:) ). In other words – if your belief has doubt as a mustard seed you shall say to your legs `Move from here to there` and they will not move and nothing shall be possible to you. (It`s my understanding of the Bible). I always have this seed of doubt which is stronger me. There is no one thing in the world about which I could think without this seed of doubt, even about my own being. So – I perceive the God as some absolute. Generally, everybody perceives Him in different ways. However, no matter – does He exist or not? – but above all is the faith of man. So – I preach the Bible among my friends. Ironically for me, as I have not faith, but I want that others have it. I can convince everybody in everything, I can convert to faith or break it, prove existance of somewhat to somebody, besides myself. But I want to have faith, not to move mountains, but, at least, myself. Maybe, I fear to give all myself, all heart – to that faith in truth, because one `Truth` was broken and broke heart at thousand fragments. Every fragment exists in independance from others, so – I can accept – all – Christianity, Buddhissm, atheism, magia, paganism, etc.
   The bigger or greatest fragment of my broken heart belongs to you. :) i.e. one complete part of my being exist with the word «Бред» or `Brad`. So – your question – what will be then, after your arrival. I think – departure. Will we fall in love? – I am not sure that I have ability to fall in love, in real love. Irreal love? – Wellcome, please! My first irreal love is your person. `Will we write as if nothing happened?` – I`m not sure. Our letters will become reports about weather, etc. and – life is life. In any case if our correspondence will finish – sad!! I`ve not only accustomed to you, but if I lose you – as part of my life, a living fragment of heart – generally – it pains me even to think about it. Certainly anything must have the end. But maybe, we will leave friends for ever. Maybe, all will sink into Lethe – the river of oblivion. Maybe, I`ll come to study in your school one day – more unlikely. But our ideal relationships are developing to its `happy-end`.
   Today I received one more letter from my Russian friend. Strange thing. She is writing about things which I`m interested with, for now, i.e. Christianity. Indeed all soviet people switch on the light and look for God. Indeed, it has come on our atheistic head.
   Sometimes I feel that I`m on right way. I see the Light, I run there and find the next Table-Lamp. But, maybe, the sense of life is not in result, but in searchings. Not live in peace of mind, but struggle inside. Human being is struggle of opposites. Man is developing in that fight. Such is dialectics. Such is banality which I`m talking.
   Ah, yes – I`ll get invitation 18.06.92 and send to you. So, I think you`ll receive it ~ in the middle of July. Maybe, 14.07.92. So I must know the date of your arrival, to meet you in airport in Irkutsk. Let it be in August ~ at beginning.
   Please answer: what do you mean when you wrote `if our time together will be less than productive, will we write?` Here: less than productive =? Reply! – what do you expect?
   Not long ago I read a letter written in Russian by hand of `englishman`. It`s so funny (as mine maybe).
   I think how you`ll come here. Greatest seducer? And you`ll find me preahing the Bible to you. :) It`s very interesting to read it. Maybe, I understand it wrong. Is it, i.e. the Bible, your guide for living? (still):)
   I appreciate it, but sometimes I create sacreligions, i.e. `atheistic rhymes`, but those find its end in garbage-chute (or before you) :)
   Such is life – between the sky and earth. My body, soul and spirit cannot find agreement, i.e. my body is rushing about between soul and spirit. Spirit – between heaven and body, soul – between you and me.:)
   I am writing and writing, but I feel that I write wrong, that I should write something another. But my head is empty, my hand is lazy to rewrite. I`ve expressed all my emotions in first 4 strokes, above. If it`s not sacreligious – I can repeat `you are the Sugar of the Earth` (for me). You are the throb of life, of heart. I don`t want that this throb will die, i.e. end, `but if the sugar has become tasteless, how will it be made sweet again`. It`s good for nothing anymore, exept to be… (or not to be?)
   For now it`s cold. I`m frozen. I threw smoking and do not drink. So I do not know how to warm myself.
   Thus – the end of the letter arrives before us. I kiss your sweet cheek, please, turn the other cheek. – my sweetest – bye-bye!
   Here: – fragments from the poem `Jumping metres` in which author tries to replenish own English vocabulary:

     ///
     Never tease a humble Lamb!
     As it can become the Ram
     Which can butt against the place
     Which is not your handsome face,
     But that noteworthy part
     Which is called `the work of Art`
     Or `fifth point`, yes from where
     Legs begin to grow and there
     Too, the back has lost its fair,
     Noble and so proud name.
     Do not make it be the aim
     Of unbridled horns, take care
     Of this sweet and tender region
     From the rams whose name is Legion.
     Never take His name in vain!
     Never take as well as mine.
     Never let your blessed, divine
     And too sacred person gain
     Such experience of pain…
     And again – I can`t remain
     Silent – I repeat in plain
     English! – (How wise I am!)
     Never tease a humble Lamb!
     ///
     =The sermon on the Mound=
     Life deludes us in delusion
     Life confuses with confusion.
     Never give in to them all.
     Never give up on your goal –
     Go straight and never fall!
     If you look for fame and glory-
     Don`t forget `memento mori`
     Roads did run never smooth
     Hearken to this kind of sermon
     Which is such a sort of Truth.
     Blessed are those who `memento`
     Such the `tooth` like `catch momento`
     Life is cruel and too short,
     So respect and do remember
     Such the `teeth` of such a sort.
     Never hurt someone, don`t trample
     On a mammoth, for example,
     As the mammoth can reply
     With the same, – it`s painful
     So – rather better – crush a fly!
     Never spit upon a camel!
     As it`s such a drooling mammal.
     If it answer… as a rule
     His reply is too repugnant
     You can sink in such a pool.
     Don`t relax! God`s dandelion
     Can become a growling lion.
     Tender and seductive smile
     Of the Fortune can be toothy
     And belong to crocodile.
     Keep at a respectful distance
     From the substance, which , for instance,
     Seems so innocently white.
     Once in fog – there dropped a hedgehog
     With a small-hole in right side.
     Keep your health in good condition
     Tasting apples of Cognition.
     As there in – it often was –
     Worms of Doubt – however
     On ne meurt pas des ces choses!
     Even if you are past hope,
     Never lose your heart, nor mope.
     Fight! Stand up and fight, mon cher!
     There is no Royal Road
     A la guerre comme a la guerre!
     In the end of all I verse on –
     Don`t forget my darling person.
     Well, in other words I say –
     Never drown me in Lethe –
     I can`t swim at all… O.K?

   ////////
   With love – me
   ///

   P.S. In month I`ll be 26. Terrible. I send you my picture, for you can recognize me in airport. One night I saw a dream: how I meet you in airport. Funny.
   Now I`m hungry. I must prepare my belated supper or early-breakfast, or go to sleep. I like my working room. Armchair-bed, table, a small-table, shelves with books + tape-recorder-ever-playing + my Table-Lamp. Ideal place to work…
   /////

Letter 38
14.07.92!!!

   My sweet, today – day of your birth!
   I shout for all one is worth:
   `You are the Sugar of the Earth!
   You know why.` And so forth…
= the same =

   Dear Brad, здравствуй!
   How are you?
   At last and gladly I `ve received your letter. Oh, your tender letter with a sma-a-alest drop of naughtyness.
   How are you? What is the weather in Japan?
   How are your BIG-deeds? BIG – is it your school? How it can be deciphered? (For me – BIGLET sounds better.)
   How long I didn`t hear from you. But I don`t forget. Never.
   How I long to see your `sad, but mischievous eyes`! I hope they keep their purity and light. By the way what does it mean `..to keep a fit tummy..` Is it a fragment of your naughtyness? Are you naughty in life? I am. But my behavior is shy. And generally, I am shy. Sometimes.
   Today is your birthday. My congratulations and best regards. I wish you all happiness you can feel. I wish that all your sweet dreams will come true. (Here I`ve stand on tiptoes and kiss you in both cheeks).
   You are so far away. You are so irreal. I can`t understand that you exist as a real man. Only my dream. The dream of `tired and worn SOVIET WOMAN` (not tooooo worn, not soooo tired)
   Today, at last, after too long suffering adventures we have received this invitation for you.. it is not from me, but from my cousin. Her name is Inna. But as you see there is one mistake. They wrote your citizenship `Canada-Japan` and refuse to change it. I hope it is not so terrible.
   Thus we are waiting for you in our crazy country of ever-green tomatos / as we call it with tenderness. Because in 89-90 in our shops we saw only glass jars with salted-green-tomatos and cans with salted sea-kale, and alas, nothing else. All eatable things were sold by talons.

   This summer is very crazy. The weather is too hot or too cold. Today is hot. It`s so terrible to be in city for now. But I am lucky. My PC is at home. So it`s not necessary to go out. I am sitting in shorts. Sometimes I switch on the music and dance, as I must dance next week on the scene – dance of Satan – but I can`t find suitable music. I have hard-rock tapes, but nothing satisfies me. Now I damn the idea to dance there, I`ll refuse, maybe, while not too late. Of course, if to train hard and the scene will be smooth, I`ll do it. But all depends of my mood and inspiration, without that it`ll be dead motions.
   Now I understand how I`m `tired and worn`. I didn`t dance during 3 years!!! In my last business trip in N-sk , when I REFUSED (!!!) to go to dancing my friends noted with sadness: `You are 25!`
   This summer my aunty met me once and invited to one dance-studio of eastern dances, so I`m training. In September I`ll try to enter there.
   While I was writing – the weather is changing. It`s rain – moreover – storm!
   Well, now about invitation. You can use it from 15.07.92 to 15.07.93
   I don`t know how long this letter will be in space. I hope in August you`ll receive it. In that case I wait for you in the second part of August.
   I must know about your arrival – date and time.
   For any case – you can send information on fax (301-22) – 4-51-28, the address on which you write, has the phone (301-22) 2-94-75.
   I`ll be waiting for you.
   We met 3 years ago. I remember that time. I didn`t speak English at all. It was terrible. That was terrible time, generally. As I was going a new life after University. That terrible factory and horrible hostel. I was about dying from boredom, from despair. There was only desert, desert, desert. And in that moment you became the oasis in desert – sweetest dessert, – the Sugar of the Earth. Maybe, indeed, God loves me, if He sent such a sweet subject into my life, for my lire can`t die in this mire, which is very possible.
   I think I`ll never-ever forget you. Even if we `ll fall into silence after our `less than productive meeting`, which is very possible.
   By the way, give me your phone number. For I could phone you, if I`ll occansionly be in Japan, which is possible too.
   Now is playing `Led Zeppelin` – `Since I`ve been loving you`. I want to create some dance with this song. Yesterday I was looking one tape in the city. I can`t find it. `Genesis` ~1980? (song MAMA). Maybe in N-sk, next week. I like it.
   I think of you. It`s strange that I saw you only once. I don`t know about you. And, nevertheless, you are my nearest and dearest. Foreigner, which becomes родной. Nearer than many relations / relatives?/.
   Generally life is strange thing. Indeed who are you?
   Will we meet in this summer? Or only in next century? Or in another life? Who are you? Was our meeting accidentally or it was pre-defined? Will be our corresponding long? Or our meeting will destroy all magia of invisibleness?
   Let it be what must! The thrilling story of beautiful adventures of one `tired and worn` soviet woman and one shy playboy `with sad, but mischievous eyes and two-o-o handsome legs`. They were created for love through the correspondence of letters.
   Все, кажется, крыша поехала. Абсурд, напечатанный здесь, представляет собой признаки надвигающегося стихийного бедствия, именуемого в простонародье недержанием речи, коим отличается от братьев своих меньших существо, прозвавшее себя гордо homo sapiens. Homo sum humani nihil a me alienum puto. C`est sorti du coeur…
   Now my mind is lazy. Maybe, because of the weather. Sometimes I create foolish rhymes, very foolish. In Russian, sometimes in English, as:

     =Hungry Muse=
     Listen to my hungry speech
     I suspect that butterfly
     Is a bit of butter which
     For some reason has to fly.
     Why can`t fly one `butterbrot`
     Which is sandwich, it`s just what
     I could gladly eat tonight,
     If it was within my sight.

     But in presence – only lack!
     Cruel insects bite my back,
     Drink my blood and too, excite
     Lofty dreams and appetite.
     Just a moment! Hey, my broom!
     I fly off my empty room
     To look for the butterbrot,
     Which is only in my thought.
     What is flying in the sky
     Looking like the butterfly?
     It`s not butterbrot, nor sandwich –
     It`s just `one-too-free` and sad-witch…
     ///
     If you deal with such a dealing
     Which is ill or which is gloom
     If you sense a sense of doom
     When you feel a filling feeling
     There is no sense in healing
     If you fear a simple broom
     Sitting in a lightful room
     (silly boy, – I knew this killing
     Feeling – HORROR!) I am willing
     To continue this chilling
     Thrilling thriller called –
     Marasmus
     (in a sense, it is not nonsense.)
     But in essence – I don`t know.

   ///
   Here I must say GOOD-BYE!
   I must say that our meeting will be `less than productive` because `every eye will be fixed on us` eyes of Michail and his friends, who are with `cold heart and hot head`. However I have about month. If it is from God it`ll happen, if not – let it be. But life is developing, every day is surprise. I`ve stand on my tiptoes and kiss you again, in forehead.
   Bye-bye!
   I`ve gone out on tiptoes …
   *******
   ///

Letter 39
Aug`92

   You know that – what I want to say:
   `it is a table, – oh, my boy, -
   It was the table yesterday…`
=L=

   Dear Brad, здравствуй!
   I`ve received your letter. Thank you. How are you? What is the weather in Japan?
   Here it`s rain. Not only outside, but too, inside of me. I`m boring. I`m contemplating an immortal grey wall against my window, looking like my life.
   I do nothing… I feel nothing… I want nothing… more exact – I feel that – I am nothing. The thought that I must get up terrifies me. However, I`m not tired, nor sleepy. It is apathy, which is often last time. Maybe, energy is wasted.
   Yesterday I had a terrible headache. The only thing which I fear. The second thing, not less terrible, which I`m afraid of, too, – happened just now. I`ve broken my fingernail.
   In comparison with this sad fact – all is nothing.
   Now it`s rain. How long I didn`t see such a luxurious rain – waterfalling – with thunder and lightning. If it will be continuing during one hour, our city may become like Venetia. I see how cars are swimming in front of my window which is like screen into life. Indeed, Venetia. Tomorrow I`ll take a boat and swim around.
   Now I`m lying in bed-chair in my working room and, as you see, writing this letter. So, my writing is bad. I`d like to talk or do something, but no one is here.
   Maybe, to read. F.e. the Book, in English. My friend Sonya (from USA) has given me the Book. Whole June it was my idee-fixe. But we have different viewpoint on this subject, with her and other American Christians. It would be interesting to talk, to discuss it with you.
   Then July – whole month I was selebrating. How many people were born in July! And only two of them – you and me … and others…
   July has finished. Our short Syberian summer is finishing. Nothing has changed. Nothing will change. Life is a tune – stuck in one note.
   I`ve lost the sense of time. I don`t know what the date is today. I suspect August, beginning 3 or 4 or 5. But I remember that 3 years ago in this date we had acquainted. The sense of space and time seems to me so far and irreal, i.e. the sense of present. I am travelling in thoughts among pictures of the Past, among people and events. But I cannot see future though usually I could see it, at least foretell more or less exactly for me. Now I see only the grey wall, eternal and unlimited. However, it`s not terrifying me.
   But as a splash – Next week – at last, I`m going to N-sk, to Academgorodok. I hope this time `next week` will not fail as ever. I want to see my friends, to get a new energy.
   My life is not intensive, so I am insensitive. The more quiet, the more lazy. I suspect there will come the day when I`ll be too lazy to breathe.
   But sometimes there happen such situations which awake my sleepy soul. One night I was sitiing near the window and reading the Book. The window was opened. I was deep in thoughts. Suddenly something wet and cold touched me. I was shocked. But it was flowers, (after midnight!). And very young voice said: `It`s to you!`… etc… but I was so frightened that I closed the window. Only then – admired. It`s indeed beautiful, among crimeful events and fights which are too often here.
   Too much of crimes around. I fear to go out at night. As my region of city is the most crimeful. I see many peoples, I hear many talkings, sometimes watch TV or read newspapers – from bad to worse. If there will be a civil war (God forbid!!!) or something else… Terrible thoughts. I pray that my motherland survive.
   Впрочем, все это было…
   I don`t care a pin. All is vanity of vanities. Individual life or national scale.
   For now I am truelly sorrowed only about my fingernail which is broken!
   …
   Now you are more real. Indeed 3 years ago in these dates we were talking, i.e. I was trying to have remembered any English words. If our meeting will be how we`ll be talking?
   Sad, but mischievous eyes… Pure, but naughty… Ah, yes, and legs – handsome and exciting.:)
   By the way – what about your book about my dearest person? Well, I begin to write about you.
   Though, I am not writer, but – attempt №1:

     `Once upon a time in train…`
     I remember, in the train
     I was trying to explain
     Something, – very-very plain
     As `the table` – (in the main).
     But, alas, my silly brain!..
     All attempts went down the drain.
     English is not my domain.
     I can only do profane
     And too, whimper of the pain.
     However, I restrain
     My great talent to complain –
     But the longing-endless rain
     Now is beating on the pane
     And repeting one refrain:
     `it was all, alas, in vain!
     Train… train… train…train…`
     Ah, the moon is on the wane!
     Ah, the vane is on the moon!
     Chain is broken – I remain
     Lost in space, in time, in train…

   The letter has to finish. But I am always with you in thoughts. Remember me. Even if our meeting will never repeat.
   With love – Larisa.
   ?????

Letter 40
Aug (?)`92

   Dear Brad, здравствуй!
   How are you?
   How long I didn`t hear from you. I hope my letters and invitation reached you.
   Today one my friend gave me a present – good paper, on which I`m writing this letter. And a new pen – both inspire me to write. Generally – life is beautiful.
   But my head is empty, as always. The weather is so-so.
   I`ve just returned from the Lake Baikal with sunburn and good mood and funny impressions. I had much of adventures there (not sexual J).
   It was beautiful! Four days on the lake. How I was sorrowed about your absence there.
   As this trip was planned because we were waiting for you. But… alas… Nevertheless, it was fine. The only, every night I saw you in dreams – as if you come to Ulan-Ude and cannot find me. It were night-mares. But once I saw `happy-ended` movie-dream.
   This was the only thought which was disturbing me for those days. All other things were beautiful. – Riding a horse, swimming on the board and so on. (AK-47 :) ). The weather was cheerful. Last day it was rain. We were plaing cards, drink beer and told funny stories.
   But the road was tiring and long. More exactly, absence of road in a civilazed sense.
   `Instead of you` – we have there one gentleman from London – `red-bald-curly` (i.e. red-haired, bald-headed, very-very curly – above his ears and glossy shining in everything else). He was with our group and so I was translator. Now I know that I can talk about Art too. And when we exchanged address` we have found that our birthdays are the same date. We decided to meet in London somewhen. He was unusual like all red-haired people. I like them. I had two friends with red hair, one was sunny-red-head, another – dark-copper-red, both named Genia, both my neighbours, both very-very musical. – One of them in childhood thrice won young pianist competition in her region. Her voice was the clearest I ever heard, like diamond, but not too strong, alas. How I love her! We all admired how she sang. Once she was singing, window was open, summer night on the yard – and acoustics was excellent, her voice filled all the space – mixed with own echo – created fantastic multi-dimentional effect. After song finishing – applause from around – of those who heard her divine singing that night. Such was it beautiful! Then we heard knocking in our door: one fellow from opposite hostel ran in ours, fallen in love with her voice. And generally she was the most talented among my friends – in all her deeds. Another my Genia surprised me one day so great, that I`m admiring still. Once she said: `We had all Mozart at home`. – `Oh, bring some concerts, please! I like him too`. And she brought Mozart … – notes!.. – old shabby scores.. L. – `I like to read Mozart` – she said with innocent smile… I still regret that I threw mucis school. Though, not many people can hear music reading notes. I envy such people. She was too, very talented…
   And generally – red-head-people – the most creative among others as I saw. I`m too, red-headed in soul – even too `red`-headed. (As you can see :) ). Many of my friends were talented in different things. Not all found themselves in science. Among my nearest friends-(girl) it was Margo. She finished University with red-diploma and was left in ps-studing just after that. But without bed-place in hostel. L She`d been living with us until getting her own room. Every night we stole portrait of Lenin from our Red-Room for her sleeping and put it on chairs in our room. It was quite strong board worthy to become her sleeping place during that hard winter. She was the most clever of us `cause she was head-to-head with Lenin – every night` :) . So it was… Yes, it was so…
   In days I must go to Turkey. My Michail wants to send me there as in business trip. Because he knows that it`s very possible your arrival here. So my trip ~ 10 days.
   I want to refuse from it. If I knew exactly when, – maybe you`ll not come at all. Maybe you are only my imagination, only Бред. (But I have your handsome pictures and sometimes believe in your existance :) ).
   I`d like to return to the Lake, instead of Turkey. I don`t need any `abroad`. Here is land where I can find all I need. The best rest is – the lake Baikal! And all our respublic is so – as if created specially for tourism. If to build more or less civilazed hotels, it could be very good business. But now most of firms don`t want to do it. Because nobody is sure in tomorrow. Very possible a civil war or something like that. I want to believe that it`ll not happen.
   My christians-friends have left here till December. So, I am happy. But my friend from Mexico went home. I`ll write there in Spanish. My Spanish is worse than English. Moreover I can`t find any dictionary in it. In spring I was slightly studing French as I was translating one math.book for my cousin. But I forgot what I studied. Only few phrases. This summer I wanted to enter in foreign institute here. But I forgot about it – and lated with documents. But I think this year I`ll be quite free after wedding and enter next year – on English-Chinese faculty.
   My wedding will be in September or October or November. I `ve accustomed to my fiance. He was diligently getting slimmer. But sometimes without my contol, he becomes himself. – As sick as charming, – such is his nature, alas. I do not know how to fight against that. I hope my great talent of cooking, i.e. absence of abilities to prepare tasteful something must help me. Only `healthy food`, like oatmeal without salt and sugar. He thinks that it`s joke. Not at all! I can + like eat it. With honey. More honey than oatmeal. And generally, I like honey, like Winnie-the-Pooh.
   It`s very-very funny
   `cos I know I had some honey
   `cos it had a label on – saying `Honey`.
   It`s my favourite book in English. I gladly read it. And more I like `The hobbit or there and back again` (of Tolkien) and `Keeper of the Rings`. I`ve just read `Farmer Giles of Ham` of the same auther : Millions admirations!!!
   Generally – life is beautiful!
   I wait for you, though I don`t believe in our soon meeting.
   And I fear to be far away from Ulan-Ude now.
   And I want to go to Turkey or to the Lake Baikal.
   And I fear that you can come here in my absence.
   And I want to go to Academgorodok.
   And I fear , etc
   And I want to see you. And fear to see you. And fear to lose you, and want to touch you, to dance with you, etc.
   The Sugar of the Earth. My naughty dreams. My invisible Lover.
   Westerner with big Lust to Easterner.
   What are you doing now? By the way I need your phone number. Maybe I`ll go to travel to Japan. Will you be glad?
   I don`t like the idea about Turkey.
   What about your girl-friend? Have you said `good-bye`? Found a new one? Married with her? Born baby? Left alone?
   What about BIG(let)?
   Every time when I write letters to you, I cannot avoid that impression that we are very near friends. But when I try to imagine you I begin to understand that we are strangers. And this feeling is so interesting. If you were here right now. Not right now! No! But in the morning, for example. (Now I want to sleep. Alone!) /It`s dangerous to stay with you in appearance, I think. You are too shy. :) / I think – in appearance you`ll be `foreigner` for me. In letters – (look above).
   You know. My heart is the same. People, born in July…
   Ah, July is finished. One more year of sleeping in snow. One more winter which must be lived out.
   Next year. How far…
   This page is finishing. I have not said what I would like. I`ll not tempt your endurance by writing more. I must finish. The words left unspoken … you can guess them/ (not about the table :) )
   Not naughty. Not dreary. Not ~~~~~
   I think – useless for us. At any case – let us not lose each other.
   We were good players, but our game must finish one day.
   It was a game. – Was it a game? – Maybe, yes, maybe, no.
   Nobody can say what is life, nobody can define God, – so I can`t say nothing.
   If it was a game, I was living inside, there in.
   Dream, crazy morning, dream, etc.
   Я не знаю, как это будет по-английски, но у меня сейчас такое ощущение, – ощущение человека, проведшего ночь в игорном доме. Всю ночь он играл, не заботясь, впрочем, о выигрыше – просто он случайно попал сюда, – да и деваться было некуда ночью. И вот утро. Он покидает этот дом, т.е. должен его покинуть и – туман вокруг, и в голове гул, и в душе – холод и безразличие, в такие моменты легко пустить себе пулю в лоб, впрочем, пишу всякий вздор… Grey morning when one may blow one`s brains out…
   Indeed, don`t bother yourself with translation – it`s nonsense. I can`t find words which I need.
   ///
   With love –
   Larisa

Letter 41
Aug28`92

   Dear Brad, здравствуй!
   How are you?
   At last I`ve received your letter! Thank you!
   I was waiting whole august sitting in this city. Ah, next year…
   Another letter which makes your portrait more alive, more `Edible and Delicious`. Ah, american, american… in every stroke. A sample of Western World – biceps-triceps+seductive smile. Naughty, thrice naughty! (you, not me J) But charming too (me too J)
   ! Remember!:
   Even if I had a single (girl-)friend with more or less large bust, I wouldn`t allow her to approach to you at the cannon shot. Not so because of her safety. But the matter is that, that – this matter is so delicate… – Though – none of my business. However, don`t worry! Being here you`ll become the centre of girls attention. American boys have a great success here, particularly unmarried. But I have very bad habit – I`m terribly jealous. Here you`ll be only mine! So, being here, maybe, you will try to make attempt to refrain your great lust more or less, less or more – though – it`s your business. I want you too.
   By the way, your phrase: `it is God perhaps. I do not despise Him for such`. You, being christian, can say word `despise` towards to God!!! Even I, being inborn atheist, never do such a sacrilegion. So, maybe, my dictionary is wrong. What means `despise`?
   I remember what you wrote about God 2,5 years ago. Those were words of a pure boy, good boy. Maybe, now you`re in period of life, when there is happening `transition from Quantity to Quality`. i.e. how it usually occurs – your life far away from home, from childhood notions, – breaks not only heart, not only turn out yourself, – you take all good and evil in your soul for to have known something, have known how to sever somewhat from something, to become human. Get more experience, get best quality. I write banality.
   I`m contemplating last 3 years of your life reflected in letters – more or less – here, you`re like my brother. Indeed, you have grown up. My congratulations!!!
   And more I want to look at your appearance!
   I read your mother is going to come here to tell of God. Where? When? I would like to meet her here.
   I wrote I have american friends telling about God but most of people come there simply to listen to English speech. It is good practice, no more.
   Our view-points too different.
   Reading, appreciating the same Book, we have different thoughts about the same strokes. I like Christianity. My mother advised me to read it, to bring it in heart. But, ironically to see, that conversations with American Christians makes me more atheist than I was before. They only know that `he was, he died on the cross for our sins, so we must be gratified`.
   I think it`s not quite so. Yes, he was and he is. The main is not that he died on the cross for our sins, but He wanted to make people free, through the Love, through the purity, compassion and forgiveness. He wanted to make us strong and free. That we have faith which can move mountains, that notning could be impossible for us. But the way to that not so `worship God`, but to be human, a simple human and live not like body or soul, but as spirit. It is very difficult. At least, for me.
   For me – it`s only reason to hold a speech (like above) with very thoughtful sight. People of my ages and older, who were atheists from childhood, I think, cannot accept God perfectly. They accept God in terms of Dialectics. i.e Dialectic Matherialism, i.e. the Bible – as a parable.
   Maybe something main was lost in childhood and forever. Though, sometimes I think that soviet atheists are nearer, closer to God than anybody, at least, those who search for Him.
   Nevertheless when I argue with atheists I can convince them in something or somewhat. I can preach and teach, and touch their soul.
   As for me – I am paganist. I have many Gods. However I live without them, i.e. do not make His name in vain. Man must be man, and thinks only about man`s life. But man has spirit. And spirit is part of God`s spirit. ?? I think nobody can define `God`. It`s too beyond our human silly brains. To feel Him.. with heart? -------
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– Maybe. Or subconsciousness? Enough about it. God is God. Man is man. Only God knows what is what.
   Enough! God is good. Good is God.
   About flag. I can`t still remember what colours it has. I was seeing Olympic too. And I long for red flag. Also I saw winter Olympics. And for the first time I watch hockey CCCP-Canada. How I was `suffer` for our sportsmen!
   Now I decided to go in for carate. As I must care for myself. Not long ago one my friend-girl was brutally hitted near her own home. In a broad daylight. Her nose was broken and the face is like blue ballon. Terrible!
   In September I`ll go to my friend to karate.
   `Do cats sing? Do animal dance?` – I do not know – what is a speech about. I think they do. In spring cats sing aloud!
   `How can I make love to one not beloved?` – oh, don`t tred on my pet corn.
   If to speak about `love`, `beloved`, about such things – I can speak and speak, with breathes and tears, with cynicism and from the heart. Again I`ve changed the date of wedding. In autumn.
   At first, I want to N-sk, to my beloved, to my real Love to say `good-bye` to him. I think one can fall in Love only once a life. I mean – a real love. (irreal? – too, only once:) ). Of course, some people can fall in love every day. I can`t. And I know that it will never be. I mean a real love, i.e. that Love for sake of that one can forget all, break own life, give own life, go with Him into fire of Hell, forget oneself and do crazy things, it`s such a state when one minute with Him is more than millions years in Paradise, when the Earth seems a trampled desert and whole Universe is like a stupid empty ballon – without him.
   Though, I`ve lived out that. Now only thought that he lives somewhere make me happy, the thought that once a year I can see him or phone to him make me quiet. Last time – it was one year ago, after that meeting I was `face into pillows` more than month. Now I am afraid it was the last splash. Because then – I became quiet, too quiet and insensible. It`s good + bad. I wonder how it`ll be this year. I don`t know what I expect from this meeting. To understand that I`ve got freedom from him or to `suffer` next time, or to make him to suffer. My Michail – it`s ideal case to marry. No problems, no sufferings, no heartbeat, jealosy, tears. He is cheerful, constant, has good intentions. But the main of all – he loves me, really. For sake of it I can forgive his height and weight and appetite. There is no crime in making love to own husband. It`s duty, to which one can have accustomed. Sex is not main for me. I can without sex at all. Only like soul or spirit.
   Now I am studing to prepare food. I do experiments in the kitchen every day. But I want that he`ll lose part of his weight. I`ll prohibit any cakes, fried food, salted and sweet. It`ll be my surprise for him. Enough!
   I`ve decided to go in for bodybuilding. I`ve bought one magazin with exercises and pictures. And soon I`ll begin to make muscules. Not too much.
   Now I watch video. It was a present from Michail instead of my broken tape-recorder. But I don`t like it. I have not tapes, and video takes a lot of time. Once I saw a porno film, for the first time in life – terrible! And I fear to watch horror-films. There leave only MTV and `karate-ka`. Better to read something.
   Now I`m reading one book of Russian writer who was living in America and wrote in both languages, – Nabokov ( `Lolita`). Great writer. I think among modern Russian writers – his language, i.e. his Russian is indeed Russian. I like how he writes, (i.e. wrote – he has died long ago). I like language in itself. Russian language. Luxurious, incredible language. When I read Nabokov I feel indeed so. He is Artist.
   Fortunately or unfortunately this page is finishing. I must stop. I must go to sleep, to see dreams about you.
   Well, I kiss your cheeks and put a point. Good-bye!
   With love – Larisa.
   p.s.
   during writing I am drinking chinese beer. Now I am quite drunken. I watch TV and video. Today I watched one terrible film – Demon Winds. I was so frightened, and now I am looking cheerful cartoon – Tom and Jerry.
   My brother must come soon. I await eagerly my tape recorder which was broken.
   Ah, american boy!
   All you need is large bust?!!!?
   If your mother will come to Russia, please, if she not against it, write me about it. I want greatly to see her. It would be so interesting.
   How can you – you have mother belong to that sort of people who are christians – how can you lust for large busts!??
   Take me easy , i.e. my words.
   Now I am drunk. Good bye!
   My love, lust, kiss, breath, etc
   p.p.s. I do not write poetry, at least decent poems. Only naughty…
   next week I am going to N-sk. I will see Him. My love. With whom I would stay forever. And , maybe with you I can stay for a long time (with a dictionary also). I often see you in night-dreams. Just every night.
   What about your new girl-friend? Does she have a large bust or not?
   Here I must kiss you good night. Lay your head down too, – I am kissing i.e. seducting you. Darkness…
   So long.

Letter 42
Sept 5-6.92

   Dear Brad, здравствуй!
   How are you?
   Another your letter. Sometimes – silence, then – letter-fall. Autumn…
   I am very glad that silence has gone.
   I am replying.
   I`ve read the Bible `New Testament`. But it was 2 month` ago. Yes, sometimes I preach it. But it`s no more than only reason to chatter with poetical gestures and too inspired face. I think – God is very fashion-theme. Somebody indeed, has found faith. I cannot. I forgot one saying ~ old dog can`t be taught new tricks. (about me).
   I can accept many things, believe them – but the foundation of my view-point is atheism. Upon this foundation I can build anymore. It`s growing up, to Heaven. You call me `.. to serve Him, Christian God..`
   At first: what means `to serve` and `Christian God`? God is unique. Another matter – how people understand `God`. Generally, it`s undefinable notion. I have christians-friends from USA. We talked about God many times – as a result, due to them, maybe, all my good intentions `to serve to Christian God` are dispersed. I became a perfect atheist! Who like to read sometimes the Book for common education.
   Though, it`s not quite so. Maybe, only the matter is that – we have absolutely different understanding of the `Christian God`. Maybe, years of atheism were necessary for Russia to find new faith.
   When I hear what they tell to our people about God – I begin to suspect … m-m…– no… – I feel it`s all not so. And generally I think that the main is `to believe`. No matter in what, but HOW. Without doubts. I cannot so. Maybe, because something important has been lost in years of babyhood when I heard only: `God does not exist. Religion is drug for people. People must not expect help from Heaven`. Such was a formula which is in my subconsciousness – very deep. Till 20 I was absolutely atheist. Then why I began to doubt in atheism? – I began to doubt in everything, because of `Perestroyka` and `free press`. I`ve got too much of information from magazins, TV, etc. about such things which could not co-exist with my view-points. `Castle in air` was broken. Dear Brad, do you know what means `devastation`? You do, I think. It`s not the most pleasant thing, yes? So, I`m trying still to fill this devastation with anything. And my attitude to -------
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Christianity is so.
   Enough about `devastation`, `suffering`, `searchings`, etc.
   I`ll never burn your letters. You`re afraid that your mother will know that `good child` became `worshiper` of large busts? :) Don`t worry. Your letters are in safety. At least while I live.
   What is your success on the field of `private parts`? Have you found another girl-friend for -------
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next year?
   Ah, yes. About `nude swimming`. Is it popular in Japan? In Western world? In your life? It`s funny for my soviet brain to imagine. Perhaps one must have a perfect body to do it.
   What about your famous `shyness` when your `nuda veritas` is before women`s eyes? Perhaps also, that such a moot notion as `your shyness` has put up with progress. :)
   I agree that nude body is beautiful. (Particularly yours:) )
   It was Christianity that made it sinful, prohibited. Can you send me your pictures (not quite nude!) f.e. on the beach. I want to see your muscles, i.e. result of training as I am going to go in for bodibuilding. I have bought one magazin with pictures of strong women`s `biceps-triceps` and exercises.
   Just now one girl has brought me a book. When I began to read it I felt tears in the throat and smile on lips.
   It was well-known to every soviet one of my age – poems and songs of my babyhood and youth, translated into English. I was grown up with them.

   If it`s interesting to you I can demonstrate what kind of folly we studied:

     1) There`s a well-known portrait
     On the classroom-wall:
     We see the face of Lenin
     So dearly loved by all.
     His eyes are kind and smiling
     With wisdom deep they burn
     They want to teach us children
     The way to live and learn.

     2) We swear to live as honestly
     As comrade Lenin did,
     And serve our Soviet Land as he,
     Vladimir Ilyich, bid.
     To follow him in thought and deed,
     To follow faithfully,
     To follow our dear Party`s lead –
     No way so straight can be. J :)

   It is not folly, but we had too much of such (poems in school program).
   Now this can only call smile and a bit of irony. Now children do not study it in school. It becomes archaism.
   Another song which I met in this book was one of the favourite when I was a pioneer ~10-13 years old. – `Young Eaglet`.
   Look which song were in CCCP if it is not boring to you. (I cannot write you notes, as I have not notes-paper before me):

     O eaglet, young eagle, above the sun rising
     You look at the land from on high.
     Around in the field all my comrades are lying
     And I, only I, did not die!

     O eaglet, young eaglet, you show me your nice coat
     And let bright new hope fill the sky.
     I don`t want to think about death dark and cold-ice
     No boy of sixteen wants to die.

     O eaglet, young eaglet, you can so grenades falling
     The soldiers ran back, as they burst
     `Young eaglet` the Red Army men always called me
     `That eagle` the enemy coursed.

     O eaglet, young eaglet, my comrade for ever
     Far off to my home you must fly,
     Then say to my mother the enemy`s never
     Made Eaglet a coward, I`ll die…..
     … And so on…

   Such were songs we were singing. I feel a bit of bitterness that this song must be forgotten as `red`. And many like this. Not so forgotten, as trampled, perverted by new ideologists; new history`s made `red` =`bad`.
   I cannot agree that nation can refuse from own history and heros. Maybe socialism was wrong idea, but people who began to build socialism – they were romantics, crazy dreamers who wanted happiness for all mankind. Maybe they were wrong, nevertheless they were heros. Heros died – fighting for idea, and idea was, maybe, caught with dirty hands and…… who knows what is what.
   Now I am reading Goethe `Faust` in Boris Pasternak translating. Did you read it?
   Incredibly, that man can create such masterpiece. It`s more than genious. Do you agree with me? I feel it only now. When I took `Faust` to read before – in 15,19, 21, years old, I never made myself to read it to the end (it was in other transl., not BP). Only now I am ready to appreciate it. Incredibly!..
   You write – feeling of Power is scary. Yes.
   But feeling of Weakness is more scary! Weakness to stop something, f.e. development of events, for now.
   I think weakness appears when people insensitive, i.e. when they don`t want anything. Insensitiveness means `Power is wasted`.
   I am sitting in the kitchen. Last days here. I am going to move. But I am terrified that I must gather things, pack, unpack, to make repair in a new flat. But that flat is more pleasant than this, with balcony and near the pool-house. It`s fine. I `ve decided to devote next year to sports. Bodybuiding and so on.
   Today is too terrible. Rain-snow. They promised frost next night. But heating season will come in 10 days. They switched off hot water for 10 days and every five minutes electricity`s switched on and off.
   It seems to me if I`ll lie into my frozen bed in such a darkness and loneliness – I`ll die from fear and frost. I write this letter from time to time. When light is on.
   My fiance has gone to hunting with friends and did not take me there. I am offended by that and now I think gloatingly about their hunting, which is maybe only `drink in the forest`. At any case I am worrying for them. Time is very danderous.. I am afraid of war. I know that most of people have weapon. I do too. I see much of people who ready to fight in any moment. It`s terrible. Maybe, such thoughts come because of the weather. But that girl who brought me book today – not long ago, in broad daylight, – she was brutally beated by unknown man without any reason. It`s such an atmosphere here. My Michail wants to build a house far away from city. And wants to buy second car, for me. I can drive a car out of city, but never – in. If it be so, I`ll never return here. I don`t like Ulan-Ude – it`s only factories, factories, factories. Useless for respublic, particularly, for now. I hate smog. I don`t like any city. Maybe, only Academgorodok, the best place in the World, in Universe, in Space and Time… Not only because it`s situated in forest and have not industry at all, but it`s place where I saw as if ~`ideal state of humanity`, `ideal relashionship between people` – intelligent, talented people, intellectual elite of Syberia and Far East of Russia. Academgorodok is known as a `town of the most `beautiful men `and clever women`. :) Oh, such boys were studing with us – relax, Hollywood! (I`m not so clever, not `elite`, so found my darling person on the factory L).
   One of my good friends named Shurik – was indeed a genious programmer. Fun story – he was flunked from University because of failing in programming exam (!) (it was `Mozart-Saliery` conflict `) and had to go to Army. Of course he charged this `sacred duty`, but didn`t notice it at all, because for him it was simply changing floors in Computer Centre. `Army` didn`t want to release him after fulfilment his duty. But he changed floor back – to laboratory of `Programmer Number One of USSR`. And such boys leave USSR… indeed, brain-drain… Sad… But not Shurik!!! He left here, and I hope he`ll never leave Russia. He is one of those about whom I`m happy that such people live among us.
   In Academgorodok – many such boys. Golden brains of Russia, pure and noble. This town for me like embodiment of that `bright future of all mankind` we were dreaming about… Yes, the best place in the World…
   And Lake Baikal too…
   How I want to find myself on the Baikal shore in a sunny day. On the hot sand, under blue sky and cheerful sun.
   Teapot is boiling. I want coffee.
   Well, so long.
   P.S. My boring epistle has finished. I have not said something main. Ah, yes – I invite you on my wedding. It`ll be closer to winter. I don`t know when exactly. October, Nowember? Don`t forget me after that.
   Now it`s rain, beating on my pain
   I remain – for – ever – in the train…
   My warmest kiss by cold lips and love from frozen fragments of my Luke-Warm heart.
   Goog-bye! – Larisa
   ///////////

Letter 43
17.09.92.

   Hello, my distant boy with sad, but mischievous eyes!
   Dear Brad, здравствуй!
   How are you?
   At last I `ve received your letter. I do rejoice! Today I received the letter from Sasha too. Twice I rejoice!! You don`t forget me! Thrice – I rejoice!!!
   This letter will not end. The warm and love will be forever. Ah, Brad, why you have not come here… Though, I didn`t believe that our meeting must occur this summer. I didn`t feel it as magician. Now I am not magician, I am mathematicion. Autumn has come with surprise for me.
   All began 7 Sept,92.
   Morning. I was sleeping in the flat of my aunty. Suddenly – a telephone call which has changed all my life. It was from Technological College. They invited me to teach math. I gathered all my documents and went there. They gave me a schedule of lessons and I was going to go home. Suddenly, one lector burst into this room and says: `In 5 minutes you have a lesson!` … !!! …
   The world has crashed down…
   Only 5 minutes! I don`t remember anything! I hardly remember that 2*2=4!! Or 5? I don`t know the course of second year studies! I am in jeans!
   My head is clear, i.e. empty!!! I have no time to read it!
   Those 5 minutes were the most terrible in my life. That day my cousin found one grey hair on my head. But all was well.
   Trustful eyes of diligent students inspired me to improvise. My old jeans inspired students. It was unforgettable! After two hours of teaching I was in chalk all around. But when I returned from the lessons – it had turned out – it was a cruel joke – it was not my lesson. Confusion will be my epitaph…
   Now I teach every day. I get up at 6 o`clock, to get the College in time, at 8 o`clock.
   I like such a life. I like my students. To teach. Now my life is busy. The speed and rhythm of life has grown up. My brain at last begins to work. I feel that my head`s become lazy, sleepy, dull. And now – as if «лёд тронулся, господа!»
   I feel a great inspiration to live, to love, to laugh. I feel the sense of life. I rejoice that the sky is blue or grey or black, that trees are green and yellow; that people are cheerful or not.
   It seems to me I`ve found a new cause of energy for me. I`m happy. I feel now is spring of life or somewhat. I do not want to believe that it is only next illusion of happiness or somewhat.
   No, I am not married still. I am afraid, truly. Why? I don`t know. I feel I`m not ready for marriage. The next date of my wedding is undefined. I am too busy now.
   I have removed to a new flat. It is nice. On the 4 floor, with balcony, against pool. It`s lightful and optimistic. All my things are unpacked still. I`m going to repair this flat. Removal is terrible thing. I hate to remove. And repair. After repair here will be a great drinking bout. Why you could not be here?
   But life is beautiful, nevertheless. I send you the `unlucky picture` of mine (on the lake Baikal). It`s too pale, as photograph was drunk. I`m – can you recognize me here? ( I`m with nude shoulders). Here you can see all you need. :) I have the pictures of this series, only in swimming suit – full-length portrait. But my shyness… :)
   Send me your pictures. I miss them. I like them. I want to see you in appearance. When it`ll happen?
   I see the sky in the window, not grey walls. I see the stars. Even at midday. And the brightest in the sky. I smile and send my kiss to Heaven, to my Star. Catch it!!
   The Colour of the Wind. – We both see it.
   I rejoice. I love. I miss you. My kiss and – so long. Лариса

Letter 44
17 октября 1992.

   Dear Brad, здравствуй!
   At last! Your letter!! And pictures!!! Which revive my fire, lire, desire. Oh, I admire! I rejoice! I have no words to express myself (as my dictionary is packed in box).
   Oh – you are so handsome and charming creature!
   Indeed, you belong to the Beauties of Nature!
   1000000 admirations!
   (By the way – my admiration is not devoted to naughty pictures. And – by the way – in the same letter you write `Let us return to our simple purity of first year!` Well, let us).
   I look at those pictures on which I see your `immortal handsomeness`. O my `juicy apple`! (forbidden fruit). And woman fell with apple. And woman fell in love.
   O beauty!
   I hold my breath… It took my breath away…
   I take a deepest breath – I cannot say nor breathe a word… o beauty!
   My darling stranger! Imagine I say Russian words to you, words of love, of golden autumn, of crying wind, of falling snow. Imagine – I whisper simple words, srazy words, smiling words. Sad story…
   Ah, american boy. If I were not tied with problems of my country, I would come to your school. But I am soviet. Not ex-soviet, but soviet.
   Sometimes I hate my country – it usually occures on the bus stop in the morning. As my College is situated on the opposite part of city, and I must get up at six o`clock to get there in-time. But here I can wait for bus too much time. During this time I send to Hell all buses in city, damn all country, etc. Just every day I take taxi. It`s very expensive.
   Now my life is very undefined. I`ve torn my engagement. In December I must leave this city for a long time. I hope not for ever. `He` hates me. Only because I do not love him. Now he does press on my nerves. So I must run from here. Now I live `on the luggages`. If not College I could be in N-sk. To begin all over again. What I`ll find in N-sk? New stress? Adventure? Love? Disappointment? Victory or failure?
   (But it `s not so important for our dialog.)
   I have no idea what can happen with me in N-sk.
   Where can I live or work? It`s `leap to the darkness`. But it`s better than to live here. At least, if I`ll find myself in very bad situation – it will be the reason to fight for life. It`ll be high nervous strain, I know, and, in such a state of soul, spirit and body – all appearances of life become as revelation, every nerve becomes as a singing string. It can be called `the throb of life`. Life on the edge. Now I forget what it is. But I remember that it was. It`s very difficult, but `life on edge` is `very life`. Do you agree with me?
   Now I`m listening Pergolesi `Stabat Mater`. Beautiful. So, my letter is pure. :)
   I beg your pardon, but I `ve thrown away `naughty pictures`. I don`t like such pictures. If you think that here we have shortage of such things – it `s not so. Contrary.
   I`m glad to hear from you about `Doctor Zivago`. I did not see movies, but I read book. Author is one of my favourite – poet and writer – Boris Pasternak. He is great poet. Movie is movie. So read this book. You know about Russian revolution only due to this book?!
   What do I know about Canada? – Oh, hockey! Canadian hockey teams are usually very strong. Also, bread from Canada. What more? Maple leaf…
   I never read Canadian writers, no, once I read, but I forgot names. My cousin last summer was there and told many interesting things. Mainly – `Ah! Oh!` etc. Most of all he was impressed by roads – autobans and green grass near. He was in `Drummondville` (?) He presented me bright-yellow half-hoses from there.
   I never was abroad. Though, now I can say `I was abroad` i.e. in Baltic respublics, long ago. Now I would gladly run away from here if I had a chance or any possibility. The only thought which stops me – absence of optimism and language, and money, of course.
   So = I run to Novosibirsk. Though, I know – one cannot run away from oneself. (In Russian «от себя не убежишь»).
   Yes, we both know about `sometime`.
   `Now` – dragons and noble Knights. Many dragons… lack of vitamins, ( I mean `juicy apple` :) ) So – you will be `B-vitamin` – very important for life. :) Maybe, all `ABC-vitamins`. :)
   I received also a letter from Mexico, and pictures. Oh, how I like non-soviet pictures. Very nice and bright.
   One my best friend in Novosibirsk now have a greatest interest to yoga. And once (two weeks ago) we have discussed our view-points. It was very long debates. I was like `christian`, i.e. atheist who have read `the Book`. She and her young husband were `yogi`. In the end of all we have decided – it`s all the same. Any religion is way to God. And nobody knows the Truth. As a background of our discussion there was `Jesus Christ – superstar`. I like this rock-opera. After that we went to dancing. They dance new-dances. But specially to me there was `retro`. Today I was in dance lesson of my friend. She teaches folk-dances to school-girls and some modern dance too. And I, like teenager, danced with them, maybe, even better. (I`ll never die of shyness. :) ). Yes, I like to dance. It was my dream. Often I see dreams how I am flying and dancing. The most happy-dreams. Do you fly in dreams?
   Tomorrow I have lessons in the morning, so I must go to sleep. Now I sleep very well, withour usual sleeplessness. And awake at six o`clock without alarm clock. And take a cold shour, and run, run, run…
   So, my dream, my Brad – you are my fire which warms me in this cold night.
   `Leap into darkness` will be tomorrow…
   Today I`ll give my heart to fire.
   I`ll be so happy, I`ll be so youthful,
   I`ll be so careless… – it`s my desire…
   Next rhyme to you, again with mistakes.
   In the end of all I verse on
   Don`t forget my darling person…
   With love – Larisa.
   P.S.
   How are you? Right now I listen to one tape and dance sitting at the table. M.Jackson `Dangerous` – I like M.J. (most of all mankind! I want to go to dancing.)
   Oh, my darling stranger! Boy-man with handsome legs. Oh, I see on your pictures – ну, ва-а-а-щщще!
   (тут мои мозги переключились на Russian. Хочется сказать много нежных и грустных слов)
   In English I can use only `table-scheme`. What a pity!
   You can consider that I say Russian words of love here //……….//
   As all my books are packed, and dictionaries too. Oh, my life on the luggages! Life is crazy thing. Not long ago I thought that my life became quiet, as a straight line. But I had one trip to Academgorodok of N-sk. After that, I`ve torn my engagement. Now `he` hates me. In the end of December I must leave Ulan-Ude.
   I can`t live in that situation. In N-sk: my friends will help me with job and place to live. At least, till October I know what will be. Then?…
   It looks like `va-banque` situation. In the summer I`ll see my victory or the last failure.
   Now I think that life is strange thing.
   In N-sk lives my `first love`. I fear that our story with him has not finished. He calls me to return. We are friends still. But he loves me. But he`s married. Our relationship has been continuing 8 years! Due to him I cannot fall in love with another man.
   Maybe, I still love him. But our last meeting a week ago showed me, – I am quiet. I am dead for him. My fire is wasted – in space. I am so sober as never.
   However – all is vanity of vanities.
   I like your BIG-office. Of course, if I had money (i.e. dollars) I would come to study in such a pretty school.
   But I am soviet. No, I am ex-soviet. In troubles. Better – come here – to study Russian.
   Ah, yes, after New-Year I`ll be in Novosibirsk. Can you come there? The city of my youth and up-bringing.
   /////

Letter 45
07.11.92.

   To my ever-boy-friend.
   Dear Brad, Здравствуй!
   Thank you for your dazzling pictures.
   Those are right who call you `cute`.
   Me, also right, – when I say about you `The Beauty of Nature`.
   My admiration about your person is unlimited. – lovely, nice, cute, handsome, charming, fascinating, etc.
   How are you? What are you doing for now?
   I look at those your pictures on which you are in the same place, but with a year of difference.
   On the first one – boy – careless boy, fascinating infant; who calls tender smile, with whom I would like to play, to dance, tell stories, laugh, to be careless and cheerful. Who can be my friend, with whom very easy.
   On the second one «не мальчик, но муж». Here I`m remembering that I am a woman. Here you look older than your letters.
   Here I see a man – sure in himself – strong and handsome. Maybe, dangerous for woman`s hearts. For whose heart the bell tolls? Here: strength of youth. The only smile is childish. I cannot decide which one I like more. – Both. But most of all I like that picture which is called `practicing before festival`. For our correspondence this foto fully express my imagination of you, of your image (and your handsome legs :) )
   Again – thank you. I love your pictorial appearance. Send more pictures in letters. (About tape which you sent – I`m sorry – I`ve not received it. Maybe, next month. Nevertheless, thank you.)
   Now I`m sitting in the kitchen, writing this letter, drinking beer. Today is holiday –
   7November – Day of the Great October Socialistic Revolution of 1917.
   Today, tomorrow and Monday we rest. 3 days.
   My cousin has come to me (Inna). She brought a new video-tape and watch video in the room. I listen to tape-player, looking at you at your pictures. `Out` is snowy weather. The winter has come upon my head. The window is open (not window, but a small highed window pane) and snow-flakes sometimes fly, dancing, into the room. It`s very nice mild-tender-dreamy snowfall. Before now I was checking control works of my students. Some of them write such a marasmus – terrible. One student wrote `I love you`. Funny. But it`s not saved him from `sat` or `bad`. Some students are about my age. It`s very funny to teach. But I`ll leave my College in the last of December. I`m going to leave this city, for a long time. Maybe, for ever. I could live here; now I like this city, but – circumstances…
   I`m slightly terrified to think about next year. What it will be?
   But I`m sure that it`s better than to stay here. Even `leap into darkness` is better than pressing of occurrences.
   However, it`s not so important.
   To the point, I`m sitting in very funny kitchen with `deep-purple` wall-papers. No – not purple. Purple is фиолетовый. It`s crimson colour. Yes, `in the court of the Crimson King`. But in dictionary `purple` and `crimson` mean the same colour «пурпурный».
   However, it`s not important too. Well, let`s talk about life.
   Life is very funny thing. `Some time` and `now`. Our `now` is very strange still. When I try to understand our state or relationship. I always wonder. How it can be that what it is. ( I`ve written this phrase and can`t understand what I wrote (?)).
   Sometimes I apprehend that you are too far, not so in distance, but in culture. I often `see` how we are talking and generally, our behavior.
   (Maybe, here my `naughty thoughts` are the same as yours. J)
   Well, we`ll see. We`ll discuss it later.
   Generally, when we`ll meet, I`ll try to be free. Now I am so busy. In College+ firm + another firm. I make money in 3 places, trying to provide my life in first monthes in N-sk, when I`ll be without job.
   Though, I am glad to have much works. It saves from different useless thoughts, (from any thought). It makes me to be more alive, to feel the edge. But sometimes, particularly when morning is grey and cold, sometimes I send to Hell all and everything and dream to fall asleep for ever. But here, how I`m glad that I teach. A living contact cures. Trustful eyes of my students, young souls and pure smiles. However I`m very pityless-cruel at the exams.
   I remember not long ago I was an assistant at one exam, at writing exam. There I saw one boy – so handsome that I couldn`t look in other direction than at him. He felt my attention and couldn`t write quietly. As a result – `bad`. But – so handsome…
   I know, I write marasmus for now.
   Now – your turn to speak. I`m listening to you:
   ………………………
   ………………………
   Thank you. I`m ever waiting for you. Remember me.
   With love – Larisa.

   ////

Letter 46
Nov 27 `92

   Oh, my long-legged wonder, hello!
   Dear Brad, здравствуй!
   Can you imagine – one incredible story has come upon me – I`ve received your cassete tape. The Iron Curtain, indeed, fell down. Thank you for music, but – where is your long-promissed voice? How I was flying home to hear you – alas and ah!
   I hope still, time will come – to see, to look into the depth of your pure eyes, to hear, to touch, etc .. etc.. etc..
   Now I`m reading your recent letter, looking at your pictures, listening to your tape. Tonight is Friday. Tomorrow I have all day teaching. But I devote this evening to you. (tomorrow will be improvisation on the blackboard)
   Now I`m trying to distinguish words of songs of this tape. He sings about `too sexy` something. (`I am too sexy boy, I am too sexy boy!`) I like more other side – with rap-music. I`m trying to imagine your image – who are you, what are you – a pale young man with burning eyes, (or pink-cheeked child?) – «he was admired by house-wives, domestic servants, widows and even by one woman, a dentist». How are you? What are you doing for now? Are you wrapped in your blanket? What is a weather in Japan – how long I didn`t hear weather-report from you.
   And generally –
   I have come to bid your wellcome
   And to say the sun is rising.
   Tonight is so beautiful – very mild frost, here and there are flying different snowflakes and temperature is about -10-15.
   Thank you for your pretty poem. Mine for you (in the same format) – about you:

     Brad is a boy
     Created for my joy
     I think.
     He`s a nice-Dream
     Sweetest as an ice-cream
     In ink
     I sink
     In love
     Looking above
     I drink –
     At the brink –
     Of Hellhole. A-A-A-a-a-abyss…

   Listening to your tape I compare you with my darling brother – Sasha. I miss him. More than one year I didn`t see him. Only letters. Once a week – in average. I so rejoice when I get his or your letters. Sasha also, write me poems, – sometimes sad – from heart, sometimes cheerful – from head. I like when he makes nice parody on mine. Imagine – I wrote him about `eternal sadness`, grief, etc – he, in reply, wrote that under influence of it – he created one `Mexican Folk-Ballad about Cactuses`. And very charmful, smileful – wonder! I was so touched, so…!
   I`d like you to meet him. You know, he is the same age with you (6.6.70) and very charming too. I so love him.
   I`d like oh, my husband will be such man-boy. A living soul, not rejected toy. When Sasha was 18, before Army, he looked like one well-known, very popular rock-singer, star in CCCP. Once He came to N-sk and Sasha with friends went to His concert. When he came into – people begin to applaude and shout him: `Victor! Victor!`, girls asked his autograph, etc. Once I saw movie with him, indeed – they look alike, just the same. My first impression was -`Sasha?`– sinse I like this group (`Кино`).
   I, alas, not look alike anybody. And only my students ask my `autograph` into mark-books.
   Do not send Rus. Bible. I have it. Soon my Аmerican friends – christians shall come back to USA. Soon I`ll come back to N-sk.
   No, I`m not married at last. The same old story – the rebel spirit of doubt and denial has muddled into my life.
   With Michail – we have said all necessary words this autumn. It was very aloud dialogue. I was near to thought that tomorrow never come to me. For a while I must leave this city. It all passed. How I was terrified to make explanation – like diving into cold water. Most of all I was afraid of our (his) friends. But I found – they gave their sympathies for me. Even not only sympathy. My ringless hand and ever-free heart has inspired some gentlemen. In Russia we have a saying: Из огня да в полымя.
   No, here I`m not going to marry, at least one year – I can`t hurt Michail. I`ll give him time to forget me and pain which I`ve brought. I has not given happiness to anybody. The only I can – to destroy, to hurt. It`s terrible. My mother says it`s because of – mine was the same story. In the end of all I`ll come back to first love. If he was free, I would come back, but I have nowhere to go. He has his wife, but wants to divorse and calls me to share his fate. I saw him in October. So – – I `ve torn my engagement. Perhaps I am a fool. Maybe, but –
   «Ах, этот голос звал – баюкал в странных ласках,
   Пугал и волновал как с набережной ветр,
   Как кличущий фантом, пришедший ниоткуда…» (Бодлер )

   Now – I am a gentlewoman of fortune – without rudder or sail. Whither goest thou?..
   Yet, happines has been so possible, so near.
   Now – bereft of God, of inspiration, bereft of life, of love and tears.
   I`m afraid of changing life. I`m terrified of tomorrow.
   I hate myself – because I`ve created this situation which must be solved by my own nerves and more.
   Difficult to be an optimist when Nowember is finishing. Difficult to be cheerful when life is terrible. Around. Terrible things sometimes happen, but consciousness is so flexible, it can have accustomed to all crazy appearances. Perhaps it`s necessary. K.Marx was slightly right when he said: `Social being determines consciousness`. My being is determined by strokes of one poet:
   I await no boons of fate, regretting
   Not the past, for that is burried deep.
   Ah, to find the freedom, true forgetting
   In the calm of everlasting sleep.
   ( Lermontov – one of my favourite Russian poets).
   However – I`ve read this letter from beginning. In Russian we have a saying:
   Начать за здравие, кончить за упокой.
   Forgive me for this manuscript.
   We have also saying:
   If you have fountain, let it have a rest too. i.e. Stop your fountain! (Which was to be proved).
   So –
   With love – Larisa
   P.S. if you should see the word `buffalo` written on the cage containing an elephant – don`t believe your eyes.
   Dum spiro – spero!
   …///

Letter 47
Dec` 1992

   Dear Brad, здравствуй!
   How are you?
   I`ve received your letter written under influence of Scotch Whiskey. For now before me: Russian cognac, Bulgarian cigarettes, soviet paper and my own mood.

   I `ve filled cognac and my first toast-speech: `For your health!`. Well, now I`m ready to talk on the same term.
   Music is playing. Snowfall – third evening – it`s continuing and continuing. Dreamy weather. All my dreams are under this enchanting snowfall – waltz of snowflakes. All my thoughts and imagination is under impression of your letter. I admire of your writing. Your letters give me this wonderful state of soul – above daily little nothings of Existance – so above – that I`m slightly dizzy of this `above`:
   Alas, I can`t express myself – this mixture of emotions, dreams, images – it can`t be grasped with simple foreign words. Your letters are lightful – they give me that state of soul – above the austere prose of life, lofty-happy smile. My favourite occupation – to receive your letters..
   I read it over and over. And over…
   Indeed, women love words, words, words… and words… even if in plain English – careless, irresponsible words which call lofty-sad smile and tender nostalgia about `what could be`. Oh, I love, I adore to be `dearest love of all your life` – it`s my favourite occupation! Though, these words are comparable with `eternity, infinity` – I fear of majesty of them. But it sounds beautiful.
   Such is our irreality, such is our `irrelationship`. We are, simply, created by each other, ne? In dreams, in fantasy, in thoughts – in naughty and overshy thoughts, ne? And your name express it all – Бред. Whose name in this world is so magnetic, magic, native for me – only Бред. // It`s my perfect love – dream of Love, Бред of love.
   What can I give in reply to your enchanting letter – in English, in plain foreign? – Silence. Only: silence.
   I embrace you. And whisper: `My boy!` My invisible dear, please, appear before me: for one moment, I call. Be real in this irreal evening. Hold me tight. And repeat these words again and again. I`m falling into depth of your eyes. Hold me, my boy. Let`s be together tonight… Time has stopped… All is mixed in fantasmagoria. + And two – become one…
   I`m going slightly mad – with one more glass of this eternal l`eau-de-vie.
   …
   I wonder what are you doing for now. Right now, while I`m writing. Perhaps you are sleeping. Perhaps, not alone.
   What about your intention to marry. (You write it). Oh, boy! It sounds as if my baby-brother Sasha said me that. What a childish thought! Throw it away from your nicest and wisest head, you are too young to become `two`! (though maybe, it`s my jealousy J)
   However, I shall not `smite your breast` and give you advices about it. We have a saying – `rescue of a drowning man is the drowning man`s own job`. Well, Love thy neighbour.
   Of course, I must present you a savage scene of super– jealousy.– I bend my (and not only my) hands and cry, and `stamp one`s feet`, and toss all my dictionaries in-to your side. (`dictionary? – yes, I remember – painful` …J)
   I`m sorry, I didn`t want to hurt you. Don`t cry!
   Third glass of cognac – usually in such a state one begins to see spirits, little green devils, `eye of eternity`, etc. There appear different thoughts about life and death, God, eternity-infinity, etc.
   What is our life? – As a mathematician I can say – life is a straight line (or broken line, or any curve) between two eternities of cold darkness of death. All our joy and misery is nothing – from the point of view of eternity. All is doomed in this world, every step is `memento mori`.
   `God` and `immortality` was invented by people because of fear of death. Atheists miss this notion. Atheists are doomed twice, thrice, thousand times. It`s terrible thought. Difficult to be an atheist. Let`s drink for `health of atheists`. Bottom up!
   But, it sounds strange, – but this short path from nowhere to nowhere – called `human life` has it`s sense.
   // It`s the last stage of intoxication if one begins to philosophize about the sense of life.
   There`s only one power or force which can oppose to cold emptiness of the space, to dead abyss of non-existance. Love – in broadest sense. (Maybe, even, in BRADest…) In Russian we say: believe, hope and love. + six feeling, i.e. – sense of Beauty. It all is Love, in other words it all are `subsets` of Love. How often people lose some of these `subsets` – belief or love or sense of beauty, even hope. I`ve lost only one: belief. Though, I believe in human warmth. That human heart can warm the space. – Warmth of soul, flame of spirit – can warm and bring light into chaos.
   Speech about warmth – in December… `Cause of the frost, I`m frozen…

   Warm me in your arms. Let me feel warmth of your heart and body. Embrace me and repeate your words. Through the distance of snowy night, through the starry chasm of reality. Don`t let me to dissolve in darkness, in nonexistance.
   Only love can warm this road from nowhere to nowhere. It`s all we need, what we look for, dream about. For sake and due to love we live.
   My dear foreigner. My dear stranger. Stranger! S-t-r-a-n-g-e-r! Strange is our love. Strange is our correspondence. Strange story – I talk with invisible stranger whom I saw only once – I play with him – in this game which is not game – I love him – in this dream which is not dream – nor reality. Semi-dream-game-reality`.
   Subjective idealism of Berkley – we studied it in University; it seemed more suitable for me than `dialectical materialism` which was our official view-point. Creative marxism-leninism… `I`m going slightly mad. It finaly happened` – this song is playing.
   Materialism can explain all around except for one: `who you are?` Indeed, who you are? Бред. All is Бред. All around. Only you is not Бред, but – who?
   Today I`ve bought one wonderful book. Poetry of one Russian poet translated into French. Listen (Ossip Mandelshtam):

     Ciel, ciel, tu vas revenir dans mes reves!
     Que tu sois aveugle est dur a comprendre,
     Et que, page brulee, le jour s`acheve:
     Just un peu de fumee, un peu de cendre!
     (in Russian it sounds, of course, better, one of my favourite poet)
     О небо, небо, ты мне будешь сниться!
     Не может быть, чтоб ты совсем ослепло.
     И день сгорел, как белая страница:
     Немного дыма и немного пепла! ///

   //////

   А это Поль Верлен (Paul Verlen) – fr. poet, of favourite too:

     Les sanglots longs
     Des violongs
     De l`automne
     Blessent mon couer
     D`une langueur
     Monotone
     Tout suffocant
     Et bleme quand
     Sonne l`heure
     Je me souviens
     De jours anciens
     Et je pleure.
     И до утра
     Злые ветра
     В жалобном вое
     Кружат меня
     Словно гоня
     С палой листвою…

   Yesterday I was at the concert of one opera-singer – very known, famous – superstar – Zurab Sotkilava. He came to our city for one week. What it was! Impossible to buy tickets. But I`m lucky. By chance I got two tickets and with my cousin Inna we were happiest of mortal ones. I never was too admirer of opera. But it was incredible! It was Art – (indeed – Art is long, life is short). It was perfect Beauty. It was that moment which brings light into our life. It was miracle, wonder. // Comparable in Beauty, only, maybe, with you, oh, my dear Beauty-of-Nature. I look at your pictures – и сердце сжимается, как сжимается оно при виде совершенной красоты…//

   Tonight the Colour of the Wind is deep-purple. I think of you. There is one christian`s song:

     And when I think of His love to me,
     My heart fill with joy
     And I feel like dancing,
     For in his heart there is room for me
     And I run with arms open wide.

   Now some naughty rhymes begin to come upon me. But too foolish, moreover – sacrilegious. It can hurt your christian heart – so I leave it in myself or throw it.
   It`s post-last stage of drinking – creating sacrilegions.
   By the way, in such a way I`m trying to remember some points from the Bible or other books.
   Merry Christmass will come soon. My congratulations! I wish you many-much of happiness, health //– here is accepted to write – Syberian health// – so, be healthy like Syberians (Syberia – part Russia, – `Asian` part). I wish you to be always – ever-sweet like candy, lightful like candle in front of me (electricity is again switched off) and handsome like you for now.
   Here I must stop myself, otherwise – I`ll drink it all – and become a little green devil.
   Now – kiss and something disconnected.
   The best of life is but intoxication – by Бред.
   With love of all life – Larisa.

Letter 48
Jan.12.93

   The sweetest of mankind, hello!
   Dear Brad, здравствуй!
   How are you? What are you doing now?
   What has changed in your life in this year?
   How have you passed your exams in Aikido and Japanese. Have you gotten, at last, your black belt? I hope all is well. I believe in your success. Man like you must be successful.
   Forgive me for my long silence – life was so.
   I didn`t reply on your last letter the same day, and now I have it before me, reading again, smiling at naughtiness and dreaming how `we talk` right now.
   I like your individuality, i.e. personality. I admire of your strength – indeed, you`re `self-made-man`. I admire how you make your life, build school, etc.
   There is something attractive in americans. For me it`s: notion and nation of `self-made`.
   Good for you, self-made man! In this aspect – your person becomes for me a kind of `model for imitation`.
   I too, am trying to become `self-made`, (but for a while my progress only in being `self-fish`). Generally I admire of: how you build your life. Good for you! You are a strong man! I wish you success in building your school and generally, life. And again – good for you! I kiss you in both cheeks.
   Maybe my tone seems to you too pedagogic or demagogic. Excuse me, I`m a teacher. You must understand me as teacher. We both alike in that, maybe. Are you going to continue your education? – I am. Next year, maybe, I`ll enter to postgraduate course of philosophy. I must past exams – English and philosophy.
   But now I teach, enjoing the very process of it. I like my students. Now they began to pass exams. Today two groups of mine have passed math. It was also, exam for me. My students passed better than others, without bad marks. I`m so proud. And I`ve drunk just after exam. It`s so pleasant when your `children` are a success. Generally, this generation of young soviet men know what they want and do all in their power to attain their goal. It`s good. My generation was lost. How many strength, power, nerves, time – were lost in vain. All – irreparable. Terrible. But life is continuing. Never late to begin all over again. Better late than never, ne? To open the new page of your life, call it `new life` and – forward!

   My life has changed slightly. I`ve decided to build my life here. I like my job, my city, etc.
   I have some plans concerning my career.
   Sometimes I try to survive in this mess, in this greatest agonizing empire. Endurable, for a while.
   To say sincerely, I don`t know how to survive. I am afraid to think of tomorrow, I only do my work.
   Savage inflation becomes usual thing. Many crazy things become usual, not touching neither soul nor heart. Maybe, sometimes tireness, but not despair.
   However, it depends from weather. Oh, the weather is terrible – frost about 30C or 40C. But I believe that this winter must finish – sooner or later. And spring – ah, spring! Where are you?
   By the way if you build your school in Japan, it means, that you`re going to live there for ever? You become citizen of Japan? Or both? Your wife will be Japanese or Canadian? Or both? Now your girl-friend is japanese? And you still, faithful to her?
   Ah, yes – about `soul and body`. You write `what shall we do if my body entices you?` (it`s quoting!) – Yes, (of course!) it`s already entices! I admire of your well-shaped and long-legged, and so on, one.
   You ask me `in the most sweetest and charming tone of print`, which touched me, to send my bathing suit picture. Well, I send this `naked truth` (not too naked), but indeed `veritas`, i.e. truth. But with the only requirement – you must send the same from you, i.e. your `bathing suit pictures`. I demand, I order it – in the same sweetest and tender tone of print. Moreover, I`m sure that you are – a gentleman.` Voila – International striptease`. Let it be so.
   Perhaps tomorrow, with sober brain, I`ll be sorry about this crazy step. But now , I`m careless, cheerful, devilishly joyous. Usually , in such a state people commit deeds or crazy steps which define many things. I`d like to be lost in a loud-crowd, right now, or among fantasmagoric images. I`ve passed New-Year and did not notice that fact. It`s strange to write 1993. But it`s true.
   Now it`s far after midnight. Tomorrow I must get up early. => So – don`t forget – write!
   Generally – don`t forget me. Write to me.
   I`m always wait for your letter – eagerly. And your `bathing suit picture` – if you are a gentleman – in which I am sure.
   Thus – one more year of our correspondence, maybe – `making love through the correspondence`.
   Thus, I`m waiting for your appearance, not only pictorial..
   With best regards – with love – with breathes, kisses, etc – Larisa.
   –

Letter 49
17/01/93.

   Tonight I dreamed of you. It was a nice dream, but I woke up and cannot sleep more. What a pity! I was lying in the bed, trying to recall that dream. Alas! It was strange. I saw you in situation, which never happened with you +me. But it was like vague remembrance. Your name, your image becomes so dear, so usual, maybe, becomes a part of my memory, instead of others. Simply, maybe, because I think of you always, even if I do not think at all. Maybe, indeed, in previous life I had known you. Ah, yes –
   Dear Brad, здравствуй!
   At last, I `ve awoken perfectly. Can you imagine, I saw you right now. Such many emotions, images, dreams, shadows… my thoughts are like little sparks in the air. Difficult to catch, impossiblу to describe. When I switch off the light – it all come on me, dancing around, teasing my mind and fly away when I switch on the lamp. I grasp in the air, in vain…
   When I`m lying in darkness, looking into space – (my favourite occupation) – I try to imagine the distance, this tremendous distance `tween us, which make it all irreal. (Again, banality). Darkness inspires imagination. Tonight I have a rare state of mood. Maybe because of holidays. I`m free till February. Two weeks of sleepless nights and lazy philosophizing. At last I reached to paper. I didn`t write a word to you since December. Ah, yes, yesterday I sent one, with negative, just after I began to sorrow about it. Too late. Please, reply with the same. However, it`s not subject of dialog.
   Thus, when I`m lying in darkness – I have much to say, to write, to describe. But my silly hand is so slow, so clumsy.
   Again, the ever subject of my regrets – it`s that you do not know Russian. And English is so primitive in my performance.
   If you can share this somnambulistic night with me, if we could, right now, sit against each other, drinking and talking, in English, about all and nothing, laughing and seducing each other. (Let your girl-friend not be offended.), it all irreal.
   Nevertheless, my mood is careless-smileful-dreamy, and sleepy. I`m like somnambula, smiling to herself. I sent my smile to space, it maybe will reach you, touch your lips and you begin to smile, like me right now, – without reason, without thoughts. Only smile. Smile in itself. Can it exist without `author`? Yes, it can. Abstract smile, flying and smiling – here and there, appearing in the air, on the face, in the – everywhere.
   Holidays!
   I`ll devote my holidays to English, i.e. for you. I`ll not write every day, God forbid! – I`ll not enroach upon your time. Simply, I feel I must begin to study English seriously. To pass exam. However, speech is not about it.
   Simply, right now I`m sleepless and want to play. I want to be careless-careless. As on the beach. Or in dancing. Better – like on the beach. Sunny day, the sea, cloudless sky, white sand, sea-gulls (to the point – `Larisa` in Greek means `sea-gull`) Fine! (it`s because my room is cool.)
   Ah, summer, summer! Where is your sweetness?..
   My dreamy smile is roaming along the sweetest pages of memory. Careless childhood.
   Every person in my mind is concerned with some image or picture. Your image – careless July; starry sky; sunny beach; and dewy morning, – the dawn. It was first impression. Then comes another. Now your image became more alive, more earthly, (more seductive J ). The same starry sky in July, the same boy, but all these pictures are coloured in purple (or in crimson), in colour of old wine; sparkling wine; sparks in devilishly-joyous eyes – the best of life is but intoxication. I`m intoxicated with this image. Such much wine there in. But it warms, so many sparks there.
   It`s warm, as I`m wrapped in a blanket, only right hand feels how my bedroom is cool. Because of frost -40, and my small pane of window is slightly opened.
   I think now is about 5 or 6 o`clock. Morning.
   Time to get up or to sleep, till midday.
   Holiday!
   So – my dream, my Brad, I hope I`ll meet you in the dreamland. And kiss. And so on. :)
   Right now – good bye!
   With love,
   With smile,
   With kiss (interestingly, how many people kissed you?) – from Dreamland – Larisa.

Letter 50
Jan`93

   Dear Brad, Здравствуй!
   Не прошло и полгода…
   I`ve just sent you a letter and received yours.
   In both – speech is about dreams.
   Well, I continue this theme. I often see you in dreams. Not long ago I found one strange thing has happened.
   Oh, it`s long and sad tale.
   The matter is that – I had two images in memory. Both – very dear for me. By different reasons.
   One – remembrances – concerned with bitterness.
   Another – dream – concerned with childish carelessness + smile.
   Both – called `invisibleness`. Then – both have mixed, merged all together. Instead of one I think of another, etc. And feelings, emotions have merged, `what belongs to whom`?
   It`s happened beyond my consciousness. My mind can distinguish these two, but for subconsciousness – it`s the same person.
   Not long ago I woke up from a dream, in which I saw myself in airport of N-sk.
   You had to fly away. I came to say `good-bye`, which`s equal to `farewell`.
   And then I saw the scene which occurred long ago – the same words, the same feelings, but instead of `him` – you. Instead of unbearable pain – I woke up with smile. Smile – not because of `farewell`, but smile – because I saw you. `You` concerned only with careless smile.
   Generally, it`s understandable – why it`s so. In psychology exists such a method of curing. If you`re disturbed by some remembrance, you can be released in such a way. Hypnotist makes you fall into a deep hypnotic sleep, into that scene; and transform it in memory. And you don`t feel that what disturbed you.
   I think something like that is happening with me now. I feel I`m getting rid of pain and so on.
   As this pain was not concerned with some concrete scene, but with one image – so – your image had to supplant another. So it goes. Thank you for your `curing`, (my `American defender` J). Maybe it`s better. My subconsciousness decided to release from burden. But maybe, as a result – I`ll meet `him` one day with careless smile, or I`ll meet you – with heart, falling into abyss. I wonder, what will happen. Such is a joke of fate.
   About other matters of life. Life is life. I take part in College-competition, i.e. I`m a member of our team. In chess – our team won 1 place, I`m second among women. Maybe, next year I`ll be first. But it`s difficult. The woman with whom I failed is master in chess. Usually she plays among men. So, I must train.
   About bodybuilding – I have not received your magazin. And life is so – I getting thiner, and only. I`ll never be `skinny` though. I take cold-bathe every morning still.
   Also, I think, my life is changing. I am `in space`, i.e. `between earth and sky`, i.e. troubles with apartments. The flat where I`m living still – belongs to that firm in which I don`t work. Contract has finished. So, I must find another.
   It`s the most `terriblest` problem here, in Russia. Again – moving, boxes, repair, etc…
   …Oh, how frosty is this winter! I think, I`ll not live out it. If spring will come one day – oh, when, when… When?
   But now – frost-work on the window-glass, frozen stars on the sky, ice-heart, cold-head and warmth of your invisible-appearance. Thank-you, my dream. I don`t want to wake.
   Tomorrow I must be in College to know my schedule.
   So – good night, or good-morning!
   My smile and kiss to you.
   With love –
   Ever-waiting for you: Лариса.
   //////////////////////////////////////

   … is that it?
   No more?
   Am I never hear from you again?
   Your picture sits on my desk as it has for the last 8 years.
   Were you only my dream? Is love lost so easily? Perhaps…
   How many things I want to say…
   Many tears I want to cry…
   I`m angry at you for not writing.
   I worry. I love. I miss you.
   You were my companion, lover and friend.
   I am angry at myself, too. Because,
   I lost you.
   Too long in waiting –
   Brad.
   /////////////

Larisa Kharakhinova Heart-to-heart letters: to MrRight from CCCP

Preface

Letter 1 19.10.1989

Letter 2 23/12/1989

Letter 3 30.01.1990

Letter 4 15.02.1990

Letter 5

23/02/90

Without dates ~~ March`90. (91?)

Letter 6 18/03/90

Letter 7 31.03.90.

Letter 8 05.05.90

Letter 9 8/05/90

Letter 10 23.05.90

Letter 11 16.06.90

Letter 12 31/06/90 ;)

Letter 13 07/07/90

Letter 14 Aug`90

Letter 15 Jan(?)`91

Letter 16 29-30/01/91

Letter 17 Sept`91.

Letter 18 15-16.10.91

Letter 19 2.11.91

Letter 20 Now 3 `91

Letter 21 14.11.91.

Letter 22 12Nov`91

Letter 23 Now 18`91

Letter 24 Dec`91

Letter 25 Dec`91

Letter 26 10.12.91.

Letter 27 Jan(?)`92

Letter 28 Night ~18.12.91

Letter 29 Feb(?)`92

Letter 30 08-09.02.92

Letter 31 28.02.92.

Letter 32 27.03.92.

Letter 33 12.04.92 day of cosmonautics.

Letter 34 I forget the exact date I think 21 or 22.04.92

Letter 35 Tonight is maybe 28-29 april, 92.

Letter 36 19 May`1992 day of Pioneers!

Letter 37 14.06.92

Letter 38 14.07.92!!!

Letter 39 Aug`92

Letter 40 Aug (?)`92

Letter 41 Aug28`92

Letter 42 Sept 5-6.92

Letter 43 17.09.92.

Letter 44 17 октября 1992.

Letter 45 07.11.92.

Letter 46 Nov 27 `92

Letter 47 Dec` 1992

Letter 48 Jan.12.93

Letter 49 17/01/93.

Letter 50 Jan`93