MARIA VAYTSYASHONAK GIVES ME A GOOD TELLING OFFMaria’s voice sounded sad and listless on the phone. She was burbling something about the amazing properties of certain medicinal herbs, but I got the impression that she really wanted to talk about something else.
“Did you read my article in Nasha Niva?” I asked, fishing for compliments. In the article I described my adventures in court and the remand prison, and quite a few people I know had already phoned me that morning. There was even an American journalist who phoned me — Horst David, if I heard his name correctly. He asked me for permission to translate the article for the newspaper he works for.
“Yes, I did,” Maria answered. There was a distinct note of bitterness in her voice now. “Something that you wrote in it cut right through me
