Obstacle Course
After an hour and a half of the ride accompanied with the guards’ jokes about banderites I finally arrived at the Moscow office of the Hell on the Earth. The red brick as if stained with blood and local sleek prison guards on the porch. Only some welcome of bread and salt and the red carpet are missing. By the way, the latter is laid along the corridor of the detention center. The Federal Security Service officers must have been waiting for me long, so I was roughly pushed to move while I, as a person standing at the edge, was resisting by all possible means.
No sooner had I walked through the front door of the detention center than the circus performance began. Clicking the fingers, the guards’ grins and their mocking comments: “So you liked it here? We have been missing
