“Hey Jew!”
Everyone there had a nickname. His was “Radio.”
“Why is he called “Radio” I asked another prisoner.
“Because he keeps talking, non-stop, all crazy stuff.”
Radio did seem to be dispensing a steady stream of gibberish. But something about him conveyed intelligence to me. I sat down opposite Radio at one of the tables (which are immovably attached to the floor, as are the benches). The individual cells were on one side. There was a wall of bars on the other and I guess behind those bars was the “free” side. Occasionally a guard would walk by.