I rarely Reblog… but this is pretty special.
Originally posted on bayareaintifada:
I find going to the prosecutor’s office enjoyable. They take me from my prison cell at 9 am and return me at 1 am the next day. Like a young child, I stand in the police van looking from behind the bars of the small window into the streets, cars, shops and people. I meet lots of detained comrades on the way. Each one of us tells the story of how and when he was detained, and we joke and laugh until we reach the prosecution.
This time, when my turn came, I entered the prosecutor’s office with my lawyer. The prosecutor began interrogating me and accusing me of funny charges that made me feel like the most dangerous man in Egypt. As if I were the one responsible for all our failures and shortcomings, like I was the reason Egypt does not…
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