I spent my first twenty years of life in my parents’ apartment. They had a hard time being approved for this apartment because they were not communist party members and the waiting list for the unprivileged proletariat was quite long. Communists, their paid informers, and activists had first dibs.
The tiny cubicle of reinforced concrete was divided into five spaces: bath, kitchen, living room, one-bedroom, small pantry, and one hallway. The entire place was about 650 square feet of space barely big enough for one person, about the size of an average hotel room today.
