I jumped onto a tram that went that way and felt my heart so clearly, so distinctly, that it might as well have been the engine pushing the tram along. The first people were returning from work, and the streets were full. Before the tram reached the crossing near the museum, it stopped abruptly, a sudden, violent jolt. People screamed, trying not to lose their footing. I held on hard in order not to fall. A small girl and a man were thrown to the floor, falling with their arms spread out. The man’s walking stick slid to the end of the carriage. I helped him up, feeling his bones through the rough tweed of his jacket, his body light like a skeleton. He thanked me breathlessly. As we looked up, we saw the tram driver’s booth empty, the driver outside talking to a policeman. There was a barricade in the middle of the street, a sturdy metal fence blocking passage.

“Everyone out!” the driver shouted as he came back. “The journey ends here.”

The passengers looked at one another, confused.

“But why?” The little girl who’d fallen began to cry.

“Don’t ask so many questions,” her mother said. “Let’s go.”

We climbed out. On the other side of the barrier the street was empty, a field of concrete without any cars, only masses of people, ushered along the pavements by police. “Keep on walking. Keep on walking!” they shouted. “Hurry up! Go home, everyone, now!”

The crowd moved slowly, in silent obedience, only whispers here and there. We saw the emptiness of the street before us, the square in front of the Party building deserted, the building itself looming ominously above.

I felt the flow of the crowd carry me away from this scene and knew I had to find some way to stay where the action would be. This is when I saw a lady leave a building nearby, the door still ajar behind her. I ran and caught the door before it shut. I slipped inside and closed it behind me.

The staircase was silent. Doors led off it, with little signs indicating which offices they were. I walked up the stairs, carefully, slowly, aware of every step. From the first floor I could see the street and the crowds. I walked farther up. On the second floor one of the doors was half-open. I saw the inside of an office, two figures at the window, looking down onto the street. “Don’t go out now, Pani Waleszka,” said a man in a firm but friendly voice. “The demonstrators might come at any minute. You’d better stay here until they pass.”