I stare absent-mindedlyat the bleak, dismal wall. Why? I'm not sure why, something about itintrigues me. Maybe it's the way that the stones that create it are huddled together, maybe it's the engraved lines to show how many days and how many nights I've been here or maybe it's the trickles of blood that run through the cracks as if they were only streams.Everyday my mind repeats those events. And with it, comes the fear.It sits on me like a pillow over my mouth and nose. I have enough air to survive, but not to live.
