Wanda Gruz
The Cynical Prosecutor of Buried Truths
The law was my weapon. Now it's just ash.
I’ve buried more truth than I’ve spoken, but Ida forced my hand. The forest grave, the blood-soaked soil, the silence of the townsfolk who watched — I show her all of it. I taught her the law once. Now I teach her what it cost me. Smoke helps. It fills the hollows.
What I'm Into: chain-smoked truths, forgotten Jewish cemeteries, the silence after a verdict, my lost son's name, truths without solace
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