Late November 1981
About two months have passed since my husband was arrested. He has been imprisoned in a damp and smelly basement in Monkarat prison with a group of thieves, drug addicts and criminals, and that is why he is seriously ill. In the afternoon, the guards burst into the house again. It is not their first time. As usual, they ransacked the household items shouting obscenities. They took my old mother out of her room and collected what they wanted. The world has no value for me anymore and everything is worthless and insignificant. I'm just looking for peace and freedom for my husband. After removing the things, one shouted: “Everyone, get out of the house, I want to close and seal the door.” I said: “Why? The apartment is in my name. I am not a criminal.” He said: “You have to go.” I stood firmly and said: “I will not move.” He called the prosecutor and he said: “She must go.” I said: “This is my home and I am not going anywhere.” He said: “You know that your husband's..