For the four months since the final charge was brought against me, I have hardly received any letters and I don’t know if my letters reach those I continue to write regularly to; more or less stable postal communications remain only with my parents.
But I know and feel your support from rare, undiverted carrier pigeons, regular cute sendings and delicious parcels, for which I am constantly grateful;
I know that many of my friends and colleagues were going to see me at trial in our case that begins on 6 June; but our trial will be closed “for the purpose of not disclosing a secret protected by the law”. What kind of secret this is, I don’t know yet, it is too well protected, and I have stayed in the pre-trial detention centre under investigation for even less than a year and a half; how am I to know?
Perhaps the secret is that the people who will be judged are not guilty of anything; at the very least, I will not plead guilty to what I am accused of.
I am going to the court without unnecessary illusions, but with a clear conscience, and even with excitement.
I will see at last the people dear to me; it is a pity, of course, that I will see them in the dock, but this is now a popular meeting place for good people; and I will be in this place next to good people whose friendship I am proud of.
Irina Levshina is a person with a kind heart and iron principles, a super editor, a pro of the highest level. Dima Novozhilov is exceptionally decent, dutiful, responsive and supportive (another undeniable advantage is that he is a Liverpool fan). And Irina Zlobina is a person with the most unimaginable combination of kindness, intelligence, and beauty in all its forms that I have met in my life.
I’m a happy man. Only a really lucky man could get into such high-class company. Only a really lucky man could get all of you as friends – fellow citizens, colleagues, kind and good people. Thank you for all your warmth, solidarity and support! With them, I feel absolutely calm and steady. It is a pity that I cannot personally congratulate my mother on her birthday, which she will celebrate one of these days. But we will definitely catch up. Life goes on. We go on. History – our history – keeps moving on. Nothing ends.
Let’s write further. Hugs.