“… What, do they put the completely naked ones there?” Artiom asked himself. “And don’t feed them at all?”
The latrine stood in the place of the Holy Offering — a tub with a board.
Artiom visited this place as well. Coming back from there, rubbing his pained sides with his twisted finger, under-slept, he was still a bit more cheerful.
“What about the monk that lived in the hole — how was it for him?” thought Artiom. “They didn’t bring him any hot water…”
The first thing that Artiom understood about Sekirka was that work, at least in autumn, was not the worst thing in the world. If they had driven them all outside, it would have been much simpler.
One of the long-time residents in Sekirka, dressed in several shirts and briefs, attracted attention to himself. He had firmly wrapped rags
