Ring

After the performance, you couldn't leave for another week. You often had different dreams, mostly in them you were in the Ukrainian SSR of the 1960s, you were a dissident. But every dream ended with your death

And here you are again in the same basement, this time the dream was too realistic. You physically felt this cold office in the basement, the chair was too hard for sleeping.

You were about to scratch yourself to understand what was going on, but the door opened and Comrade Kolchyk came in. He threw the folder on the table in front of you with a swing.

— Tell me, comrade, how long can you keep writing those poems of yours? You are sowing doubts among people about the party.

His voice is drawn out and tender, his eyes burn with anger and coldness.

— Do you want to see Stus in his cell?