Dear (Dostoyevsky) How hard it is not to be next to me when I need you ... How hard to want and I hope to talk to you I speak to you I take your opinion .. oh then oh my dear Dostoevsky how much I need you .. I know that it separates me from you hundreds of years of life but you will even hear me And while you are in your grave ... How hard it is for a person not to find a refuge to turn to .. I want to take shelter within you I want to cry above your shoulders dear Dutstovsky .. I often imagine that you are sitting next to me in front of me wherever you put your hand on my head to silence all thoughts with all anxiety, all tension All fear of this cold brutal world I want warmth in your words Dostoevsky ... I see you put your hands on my head and I complain to you are a writer, you are a writer who advises me ... How much I need you. I need advice for your opinion on many matters ... Ya dotstovsky will hear me even while you are in your grave. ... Do you know why? Because I am a writer and writer, Dostoyevsky ... although I do not dream of being just a drop in the sea of your literature and its novels ... but I feel that you are by my side you reassure me that you put your hand on my head, so I am at ease and my fears calm down. Next to me (Dostoevsky ... the letters are over