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…have been was in winter, because I remember ha trekking through snow and being lost and spending a night with other lost children in [a] room and being being given white Russian bread and pieces of hard cold meal, [by soldiers].  In the morning I wandered out crying in the snow crying for my mother.  I remember when I found her, how she sat in the snow and wept over me.  We returned in summer to find my only maternal uncle had died and my grandfather dying in the Turkish village near our village.  After my grandfather died we went back to our own home to find everything gone & roof completely removed.  These are the only out-standing events which have stuck in my mind.

We spent only one year in [Khasie] (my mother’s village) and then moved to [Sutloovi] my father’s homeland village where

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  When After the grapes are harvested the vineyards are opened to gleaners and children of the poorer people [...] about them seeking for left overs.  They do collect quite a good amount. As everywhere the [ missing word? Summer? ] months (months) are the best.  It is hot and all village schools are closed.  Children help their parents in the gardens and vineyards & tend cattle on the common. I did not see my father till (sic) I was six or seven.  When I was born he was on his way to America.  But one afternoon in summer I was playing with other children on [the] banks of the shallow river close by the village when we saw a phaeton drawn by two horses splash across the river and stop.  Two wl well dressed men got down and one of  them approached me.  He was my father.  This must have been the year we returned from our flight to Russia which must
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