The Rhythm of Memory
“It was nothing more than a concrete bunker that smelled of human waste and had no windows. I lay there for hours, my wrists handcuffed behind me, doubting that I would ever be returned. You must believe me when I tell you I thought that I was going to die in that prison, among the sound of screams and the drone of the incessant music that attempted to mask the wails. I have never known such a hell as I did there.
“Two hours passed before I was taken to the interrogation room. The guards came and pulled me out by both arms, dragging me through a long, narrow corridor that was illuminated by gas lights. I must have passed two dozen filthy cells that mirrored my own. The people inside barely seemed human. White eyes peered out from dirt-smeared faces. Some were covered with dried blood.
“ ‘Keep moving!’ one of the guards yelled, as he shoved me forward. I remember that as I tried to regain my balance, I was kicked in the small of my back. This guard, I can still remember his face.
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