Ο άνθρωπος από το Αρχαγγέλσκ - Άρθουρ Κόναν Ντόιλ | Κλασικά Διηγήματα (Ηχητικό Βιβλίο)

The Man from Archangelsk by Ser Arthur Cony. Translation and reading by Andreas Hadjidimou.

On the fourth day of March of the year 1867, being then in my 25th year of age, I wrote in my notebook the following words, the fruit of great mental turmoil and internal conflict. The solar system, among countless other systems, equally large as itself, sinks ceaselessly and silently through space in the direction of the

constellation Hercules. The enormous spheres that make it up rotate endlessly in the eternal void, without noise and without rest. Of all of these, one of the smallest and most insignificant is that of the accumulation of solid and liquid particles. which we called earth. It continues its ceaseless rotation, as it did before my birth and as it will do after my

death. A spinning mystery that no one knows where it comes from, nor where it is going. On the outer crust of this moving mass crawl countless tiny creatures, one of which is me. John Macvb. Weak, powerless, drifting aimlessly through space. And yet such is the state of our existence that the little energy and the faint spark of reason I

possess are completely exhausted in the efforts required to acquire certain metal discs, with which I can purchase the chemical elements my body needs to renew its constantly degenerating tissues and to maintain a roof over my head that will protect me from bad weather. So I don't have a single thought left to devote to the great and thorny

questions that surround me on every side. And yet, as insignificant as my existence is, I can still sometimes feel a certain happiness and, as paradoxical as it may sound, occasionally swell with a sense of my personal importance. These words, as I already said, I recorded in my notebook and they reflected with absolute accuracy the