2/15 May, 1918.
My dear little Mama, Since your birthday, we had no news of you, I mean, that’s why we’re waiting for some news of you impatiently. And you, do you not receive our letters? We sent, all in all, two telegrams. I’m writing near the wide open window. Today, the weather is splendid; no wind. The little one is out in the garden. They moved him there in his wheelchair. He also got up and put his clothes on yesterday, but he didn’t get out.
We also cut some wood, for the bath. Zhillik and Trina had cut it before with the saw. We were on the roof, sleeping under the sun. Yesterday, there was a splendid sunset, and a marvelous evening. It was so luminous, and the sky was filled with stars!. You certainly don’t have such a deep silence when the night has arrived…My dearest, how do you live and what are you doing? I would like so much to be with you! We don’t know when we’ll leave. My little brother must go in the garden more often and regain more strength, then, I think we will be able to leave.
I’ve sent a card to Kay these days. Today, I got a letter from Trofimov. He salutes you all, and send his regards. He’s writing that the little Anatoly, his son, sends his wishes to his “grand-mother”. There’s a lot of funny couples coming and going in the street, even sometimes on bicycles.
Tell Mashka that I saw N. Dim. and Pimy from afar. We have moved the piano in your lounge, also the couch that was impeding us during Mass. Last night, the fan exploded with a lot of noise, and in our rooms, upstairs, we had no electricity.
I hope that, at least, you get our letters. A strange man has just passed, with a red fez on his head. Well, it’s time. May the Lord protect you, my dear Mama, and all of you. I kiss Papa, you and Mashka, I take you in my arms and love you all.