In the early afternoon it gets so hot, over 40 c., in the slavecamp, that the women are 'allowed' to take off their jackets and work naked to their waists.

#348 feels equal embarrassed every time the order come.

But there is no way out.   The only clothing there is permanent her, is the shackles.

Her ankles are sore from the constant rubbing of the heavy leg irons, but an older  white slavewoman, who as a young promising  actress 

  had disppeared under a vacation without leaving a trace 20 years ago,  have told her, that in a copple of years, she will get so

used to them, that she wouldn`t even notice them anymore.

But that is the future - Right now #348 has to concentrate of chopping fourty

heavy baskets of firewood with this inapplicable heavy slegehammer

    before nightfall.                    Oh - it`s so hot and my arms feels like lead !     

Every fiber in my body hurts and it is difficult to breath in this stale hot air.

And that blistering sun are just burning down on us.   Don`t it ever rain her?

Where are the gards?    I just have to sit down to get my breath back.

With sweat in her ejes, she don`t se the gard comming back.     "Nr. 348 - Get up !"

"You lazy piece of trash !   Get back to work right away !"   

 This is the 30`th basked today, only ten more to go.

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