Sunday, October 17, 2010

Karachay: Part 2

Saturday, May 13th, 1967
Dear Isaak,
Life is fast becoming survivable again. With the winter's snows melted, I've gained not only respite from the disease (we had quite a singular strain of flu this year. I've enclosed some notes that may interest you), but a source of rejuvenation in our renewed contact. Without your letters, I think my position here in Ozyorsk would have withered me away. As it is, I feel that some sloth has set in my bones, though perhaps it is merely age. How laughable is it that I think myself little more than a child still?
The people I serve here care little for politics. But for the vans that had come with the moon a few years before I knew this place and myself, they see the outside world as little. It is from Out that their supplies come, and it is to Out their taxes go. I fear that I am alone here in my concerns for the war.
Political babble grows dull. The weather, though, is of endless interest to these farmers. They slave in their fields, and call the weather hot even now. I almost fear they're all mad - why else would I have had to come aid one who collapsed in his field from overwork? I left him in the care of his wife.
Shall we have a wager? You see, his wife is pregnant, and she set to her task with fervor. I'm willing to say that such work will do this woman good, and the birth will be easy. If you take an opposing stance, why not gamble five rupees? There's little to lose, especially if the doomsayers are right and the drought ends us.
To your health,

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