
The colony looked like it would sink into the bog of permafrost underneath it but it never did. It towered over a carpet of arctic lichens and scrubland like an apparition of a place imprinted on time and existence, the view around it never changed. The steel fence coiled around the brick edifice like a drunken domino line of panels knocked and dented askew and topped with a rattle of barbed wire. And the place spoke none of its inhumane ordeals.
Continue reading “This Way to the Warden’s Office by A.V. Pankov”

