狄米催覺得髒透了。背上的汗水使得身上這件藍色的襯衫緊黏著皮膚，汗水甚至順著重力的方向往腰上的皮帶流動，一直流到他的內褲。如果他緊縮著下巴往下看，他可以瞄見下巴鬍鬚的最末端。他的鬍子還不夠長到打結和黏在一起的程度，但是他的頭髮卻可以，就好像有人往他的頭上淋下未使用完的豬油，開始發出臭味。

他覺得有人在他脖子背後閃著手電筒般的光。這個房間實在熱的讓人受不了。在他前方的這個狹小的窗戶一點都不優雅，窗戶上生鏽的卡榫小的像一個孩子的耳朵，卻也卡住了沒法將窗戶打開。房間裡很悶。他坐在這個褪色的藍色椅子上一點都不舒服，因為這椅子右前方的椅腳比其他三隻腳都來得短，他必須用他的右腳頂著地板才能平衡他身體一半的重量。這個房間裡除了四面死灰的牆、這張褪色的藍椅子、一枝筆和三張泛黃的紙，就沒有其他的東西了。他必須離開這個房間。

他想到他可以去梆亞。如今的觀光客把梆亞叫做公共浴場。狄米催知道在退伍軍人醫院的斜對面的角落有一家，他曾經在他年輕的時候去過那裡。他會騎著他父親的摩托車從沙可小村到這個叫做奧得薩的城市。比起什麼都沒有的沙可，奧得薩什麼都有，連省立的監獄都有。在他年輕的時候，奧得薩市政府是這梆亞的擁有者。現在，在這建築的前方掛著一個牌子寫著「高可夫斯基梆亞公共浴場」。狄米催記得梆亞的前堂總是空蕩蕩的，特別是當蒸汽從裡邊右方的房間飄出來的時候，所有的東西就好像被埋在這霧氣瀰漫的空間裡。前堂的每一面白牆看起來的都一樣，天花板是白的，地板也是白的，唯一確認自己並不是倒立的指標是還掛在天花板上破掉的燈泡。

*俄式公共浴場

Dmitry feels dirty. The sweat on his back makes his blue shirt stick to the skin. It has even gone with gravity through the belt down to his underpants. If he looks down while holding back his chin, he could see the tip end of his beard. The beard is not long enough to tangle and stick together. But his hair is. It is as if someone had poured leftover pork grease on his head. It starts to smell.

He feels as there is a torch light shining right behind his neck. It is hot in here. The slim window right in front of him does not look elegant at all. A child’s ear-size rusty hook makes it impossible to open. There is no air in here. He does not feel comfortable sitting on this fading-blue chair. It seems the right front leg is shorter than the rest. His right leg has been supporting half pressure of his body. Besides four dead-grey walls surrounding, a pen and three pieces of old-yellow paper in his hand, there is nothing in here. He has to get out of this room.

He wants to go to a Banya. Tourists nowadays call it public steam house. He knows one Banya house at the corner across from the veteran hospital. He used to go there in his twenties. He would ride his father’s loud motorbike from Sokol, a nothing-to-do village, to Odessa, this town with everything, including a provincial jail. The town hall used to run the Banya house. Now there is a wooden sign written in red paint, Gakovski Banya House. He remembers the entrance room is always empty, especially when the steam constantly flowing out from the room on the right, everything is buried in this smoky but wet cloud. The white paint cannot make those four walls more identical. The ceiling is white. The floor is white. The only way he can be sure he is not standing upside down is the broken bulb hanging loose on the ceiling.

**Image Source: London Fencing Club