Welcome to Lefortovo
For quite a long time when I was tortured in the Crimea and staff would often add with a blood-thirsty smile: “D’you know, where we’ll send you? D’you know where you’ll get? Lefortovo! Hold on, you son of a bitch...” At that time I did not think too much about their words and, indeed, I did not care where I would be taken. For a person, who had never been in custody, all prisons look the same. But very soon I felt the difference. I was taken to the promised place...
Naturally, I saw just a part of the building, and could not see any more. My survey of this picturesque area was interrupted, and I was so to say brought to by strong slaps on the nape and the back. I needed to rush because the guards were in a hurry for their lunch coffee. For them we were just like the
