These letters were written in the summer of 1963 in the village of Zhukovka, near Moscow, over thirty-five days. The free form of the letters allowed me to be completely sincere, and I consider what was written to be a confession.
At that time, it was even impossible for me to think about publishing a book. Now, when such an opportunity has arisen, I didn’t change anything in it, even though four years have passed since then, and I’m now far from Russia. Besides the necessary editing while preparing the manuscript for print, minor cuts, and the addition of footnotes, the book remained in the same form as my friends in Moscow read it. I would like now for everyone who reads these letters to believe that they are addressed to them personally.