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Haifa, Mt. Carmel, Beth Moses
8. xi. 38
Dear Father Freud,
It is now raining here with a savage violence; the roar of the breakers thunders up the mountainside as in R. L. Stevenson. Suddenly it has turned into winter. This increases the weight upon our hearts as it means that the time is physically as well as morally and politically dark. You can read and hear what is happening here on the wireless. What is happening in Europe is far more evil and unpleasant. I do not think these appeasers will understand what a price they are making others pay—till they have to pay it themselves.
Are you all right? Have you recovered from the great strain of the operation and its after-effects? Has some order been established in your household? I, at any rate, returned home deeply refreshed from my long stay in London and from being with you and talking with you; perhaps my pleasant sea trip also contributed to this. But now, faced with the task of either selling everything here or leaving it behind or giving it away, our furniture included, and setting off for America, my heart fails me. Freight charges are so high that we can only take suitcases and a few packing cases with us containing the most important books and our best gramophone records. This is all so symbolic and symptomatic that my arms just drop helpless to my sides.