First Impressions
The first month and all the early days of my prison life rise vividly before my imagination now. My other prison years flit far more dimly through my memory. Some seem to have sunk completely into the background, to have melted together, leaving only one collective impression—oppressive, monotonous, suffocating.
But all I went through during my first days in Siberia is as vivid to me now as though it had happened yesterday. And this is bound to be so.