This is the cell. Four walls and the steel-barred door. It was a decision which appeared insane to me, for it would cancel out reality, logic, the walls and the steel doors. I tossed and turned upon the wooden board, unable to close an eyelid. I became aware that torture in prison does not take place by means of the bars, or the walls, or the stinging insects, or hunger or thirst or insults or beating.
Prison is doubt.
And doubt is the most certain of tortures. In prison I came to know both extremes together. In prison, I remembered the way I had burst out laughing when a child, while the taste of tears from the harshest and hardest days of my life returned to my mouth. I have seen no investigator or prosecuting attorney or lawyer. My chest filled with air, my heart with blood, and I heard my heartbeats, pulsing strong and free.