Journalists Came
My cell of the quarantine unit was minimalistic. A standard box, some seven-eight square meters was for two people. Two prison beds were fixed to the floor. A wooden peeling stool, which had to substitute a dining table for me.
Near the door of each cell, right within the peephole sight, there was a wonderful structure, which I first thought was a rubbish bin, and only when I needed to go to the toilet and after a long search for it was identified as a simple toilet. Most prisoners called it a vase, because the structure resembled it a lot. It was covered with a self-made round wooden lid, for convenience in the middle of the lid there was a round handle to raise it. Unfortunately, most often this handle was non-existent. In general, that was a toilet, separated from a b
