Explore "An Unknown Friend" by Ivan Bunin on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
October 7th, 19 -- / On this picture postcard with a grand and gloomy view of the shores of the Atlantic by moonlight, I hasten to write my warm thanks to you for your last book. This place -- my adopted country -- is the furthest point on the west coast of Great Britain, so you see from how very far one of your unknown friends sends you greetings. Be happy and God keep you.
October 8th. / Here is another view of the desolate country where I am destined to live for the rest of my life. / Yesterday in a terrible downpour of rain -- it is always raining here I went to the town on business; I happened to buy your book and was reading it all the way back to the house where we have been living for the last year on account of my health. It was almost dark with the rain and the clouds, the colour of the flowers and the trees in the garden was unusually bright, the empty train rushed along throwing out violent sparks and I read on and on feeling almost painfully happy, I do not know why. / Goodbye, thank you again. There is something else I want to tell you, but what? I do not know, I cannot define it.