Writings on the Wall
Like a blind man learning language, I moved my fingers over the walls.
How I became acquainted with those walls, learned where it had melted slightly, where it was slightly discolored. I felt their tiny wrinkles and cracks. Like a blind man learning language, I moved my fingers over the walls, and like a blind man learning language I felt liberated.
The language of the writings on the walls, the memories that many events had left their scars on them.
The imprisonment that set me free.
I feel it all, time and time again..