‘Then how have I judged? My war, and that is how I wanted it. I come. And what? All isn’t that. There isn’t that feeling, I can’t explain. I search, catch, not anywhere! Ok, I think. I’m a reporter, it’s my job. I will examine. And here the story is almost not the first day. And who knew that this would happen to me? Tell me, I was not alone there. Well ok for you, but because Rahim too, and this, how do you call it, well a journalist! Well such, the cape with a strap, I don’t remember. And because nobody, nobody . .. But understandably here is stress, but really could I wait for such from you? What I so shamefully chicken out so monstrously . . .’
(Yes, it’s true, she had such a strange reaction, disproportionate, and all right Rahim, and this memory the stooge journalist hung on better,
