The Literary Review, January 1st, 2004
I The sound of footsteps halted outside the door, followed by loud rapping and then a voice that shouted: "Hoods on! Hoods on!" Inside the room the five women, stretched out on ragged mattresses, their hands and feet in chains, sat up and covered their heads with the black fabric hoods that lay at their sides. After a moment, during which someone looked through the peephole into the room, the door opened and in stepped a sergeant and his aide. The latter was carrying a serving bowl and a pile of tin plates; the sergeant held a half-filled black plastic garbage bag. "Well, well, now. And ho...
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