I look out the tiny barred window of my cell and see the surf rolling over the beach. Seagulls caw shrilly at each other and children splash happily in the shallows. The water looks so blue, so refreshing. What I wouldnt give to break out of this cruel confinement and swim away, far away. The rags that i wear every single hari have worn so thin, i am never warm anymore, just constantly shaking off chills that claw so deep into my bones im afraid im close to shattering. I sit all hari every hari waiting for my one meal and at night, through my stomach growling and the sea roaring, above all that i hear the screaming. It comes from all around me, beside me, above me, under me. Tears stream down my face fluidly, endlessly, steady as a violin chorus and just as sad. The night changes the prisoners, makes them crazy as if they were serigala tortured with an infinitely full moon. They beat their shackles against the stone walls and howl until their throats are raw. They reach through the bars trying but always failing to grasp anything except ghosts dragging their silent chains. I sit alone, still and deadly quiet, with a ferocious orchestra playing in my head; the soundtrack of my escape, the possibilit of my freedom.