I’m sitting in my cell, minding my own business. Eating my lunch from a box labeled “Battered Fish Fillet. Halal.” Watching a news report saying that the European Court has ordered my release. Then the guards come in and take me to a room on another floor. There are three men there: a captain, a lieutenant colonel, and a colonel. - We’re holding a meeting of the preventive supervision commission. It has been decided to place you on preventive watch as someone prone to escape.
 So of course I start laughing. And then, for far from the first time in the past month, I ask: “Is this some kind of joke? A prank?” But they’re not laughing. They just hand me a piece of paper to sign. I have only one explanation for what’s happening. Some old man living in a bunker had a nightmare. In it, I escaped from my “special block,” made it all the way to Gelendzhik, broke into his palace, played with his little toy cars there, smeared myself with mud from his storage room, and then jumped into the aqua disco and danced there, sending up huge splashes. The old man woke up in terror, picked up the phone, and demanded preventive measures to stop any desecration of sacred sites. Be that as it may, I am now “prone to escape.” Even before this, they transported me not just under guard, but with special forces troops in helmets and carrying assault rifles. Now, I suppose, they’ll put me in shackles. I signed the paper, “informed,” and at that moment I felt like Dr. Hannibal Lecter from *The Silence of the Lambs*. You remember the one who said about one of his enemies: “I ate his liver with a glass of Chianti.” Not so sure about the liver, but I certainly wouldn’t say no to a glass of Chianti 😉