I many times denied this. But it came up everytime. It came up under trace. Impossible to detect but it was real and working. I tried to deny, but everytime I met a piece of new evidence, that I wanted to deny and I denied in the end, it surfaced again a few days later from another region. We are squeezed. We are used, crushed, emptied and thrown away. That is the truth. There was a guy. A strange guy who came from the UK, was Belgian and lived in Vilnius undercover I suppose. He lived in an area where I was told there was the centre of many secret services. Honestly, I don' t remember how I met him. How we became friends. "Friends" is a big word. Maybe, I should say, acquaintances. We used to meet and talk in Vokiečių gatvė, at Sugamour. A bit pretentious bar, slightly kitsch, but if I rethink now of those days I can say that was a perfect place. It was the right bar at the right moment. The right atmosphere for the right situation. We lived in a bogus situation, a bogu...
Laboratorio di scrittura