It's Cursed Memorial Day. I remember damp walls in the Warsaw prison on Rakowiecka. And the odor of the target. No, I'm not the Cursed One. I'm much younger. But I, too, found myself in these walls covered in the blood of heroes fighting for free Poland. In 1968 as
University of Warsaw student
in the law nomen department. After getting out of prison (stations: Mostowski Palace, Rakowiecka 37, peculiar Arrest Grodzisk Mazowiecki, Rakowiecka 37 for the second time) I dropped out of the University of Warsaw with a bang, and finished my studies late “on emigration” in Lublin, and after obtaining a master's degree I received
Prohibition of profession
A lawyer. I did not receive the court application due to the fact that I did not give any warrant that I would be a justice in accordance with the legal order of russian Poland (the alleged "Polish folk"). Today I can be arrogant of this distinctionAt the time, it was a further punishment for raising your voice.
Jan Rich
Ps.: That's what I was reasoning yesterday in Belvedere. But it pays to be decent.
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