Dear Brother,
I'm walking on the snow-covered streets, breathing in the air of Moscow!
My joy and emotion are inexpressible. Yesterday evening, as soon as I arrived,
[ went to tomb and saw him once again lying there fully alive, short,
all white, with the bald skull, the little blond beard, his right fist clenched, the
left one open. I'm wandering through the streets, seeing again what I loved so
much: the golden domes, the somber men, the Wild, dangerous women, the
Asiatic cheekbones, the oriental colors. How far one finds himself here from
superficial, narrow, micro-minded, micro-souled Greece! HOW shameful to
belong to a decadent, washed-out race of fellaheen! We need to conquer all
that, to escape it, make war on whatever inside us joins us to Greek blood.
There's onc great, marvelous temptation: the language. Let's sec:
imgur.com