The sound of their voices was distant; it felt like I was the only one in the car. We drove faster and faster until suddenly we came to a stop. Firecrackers were exploding outside the window and a commanding officer barked some instructions. I was pulled out of the car and made to walk. I heard the pa-pa-pa of camera shutters. Everything was sharp, bumping into me, until up ahead the road emptied, where it was like being pushed towards the lonely night. They lifted the cloth from my head and I saw walls. A metal door. A window pulled shut. They pushed a piece of paper towards me to sign and then attached me by the hands to the metal loops fastened to the wall. I couldn’t stand properly, only on my tiptoes. I protested and their response was to fetter my feet. I decided not to make any more requests. My body kept sinking and I had to fight for the right to rest. Sometimes my poor hands would let my feet take the burden, sometimes the other way round. ‘I need a pee!’ I shouted at one point, the response to which was the sound of clanging from outside and then, ‘Go on then.’ The urine ran down my trousers and thighs and out between my toes, like a bottle of warm, spilt milk.
