posters from Moscow and the provincial capital depicted the hydra of counterrevolution and trains transporting cloth and calico to co-operative villages, but nowhere could Chepurny see a touching picture of the future in the name of which this hydra was to be beheaded and laden trains sent on their way. He had only the support of his own inspired heart, only its difficult strength with which to win this future, knocking out souls from the bourgeoisie’s silenced bodies and embracing a blacksmith now legging it along the road.
