Again a letter from 1930. When you see this: *, it means there is writing in Hebrew lettering that I can’t translate. Sorry.
I don’t know where Bassya is staying and where she is writing the letter from. But it is during the time of their struggling love. Apparently they have chances to see each other, perhaps with no one knowing.
July 2 — 1930
Dear friend Pinchas:
Have just received your letter, and read it through about five or six times. It was good to read every word of it. It feels wonderful to have you be worried about me. It is just like my Pinchas ought to be. It is the second of July and everything is fine just a little too warm up here. I gained four pounds already — am I not doing fine? The old ladies tell everybody that I go to bed with the chickens, I go to bed at nine and read till 12.
I opened a Yiddishe Shule here. My class is under a tree near a water and I have five students, none of them know anything about Yiddish and now they are so proud they can sign their names, they are doing their best. What do you think of me as a teacher?
I have not been lonesome, on account of what happened Sunday. I was miserable and made up my mind not to think. Just rest, and I never knew that there was so much determination in me. When you left — I read “Phibi” before I fell asleep, and the next morning I wrote a letter to you, which I never mailed to you, and today I thought of tearing it up — like I do many a time, then I thought, you might just as well know what impression you made on me Sunday.
I cannot understand this restful feeling that came over me since I have been here, is it my determination to rest? … I do not know what it is, only I feel there is nothing that can hurt me anymore — it seems like I could stand the greatest pain, and not even shed a tear. I cannot recognize myself. Maybe you my friend can understand it? What created such peace within me?
So Ann and Ella are coming along — they would come — I hope to God they do not. I cannot stand “flesh without soul.” You will not have time to answer this letter because —, anyway Friday there will not be any mail.
It seems I have not seen you a long time, maybe a year or so, yet I am restful, I wonder how long such a feeling can stay with me. Yet does this restfulness bring me happiness — no, it seems everything is *.
Please try and come Friday night —