43
PATRUZECI ȘI TREI
wanted freedom. I wanted Romania to fight back.
I filled my notebook with statements, lists, and information aboutI our country, cries for help that I hoped Mr. Van Dorn would share with others. I created a section called Gânduri—Thoughts—which contained musings like these:
Paradise: If communism is Paradise, why do we need barriers, walls, and laws to keep people from escaping?
I raked my hands through my hair, thinking. There were probably rules. Rules preventing diplomats from knowingly accepting something controversial. I needed to get around that, make sure Mr. Van Dorn couldn’t refuse the notebook. Think of ways to encourage him to share the information with others.
What if the notebook just appeared? The author, unidentified?
I took a breath and wrote the following on the cover:
SCREAMING WHISPERS A ROMANIAN TEENAGER IN BUCHAREST
BY ANONYMOUS
Chills formed at the back of my neck. It was a netless leap. Suicide, some might say.
But I had to try. As the saying goes, better to die standing than live kneeling.