Rain, thunder, the lightning is hidden behind the sanitarium
walls. But then again, so is the rain; does this mean I have
no right to tell you that it exists...? Lately, I can hardly
tell that which I think should exist from that which exists
- I am certain I should have a right to live in the light,
but it seems someone else thinks otherwise so he locked me
up in this place. A box made of six almost identical steel
walls and one little door - how did I ever come in here
through such a small opening? Maybe I never did, maybe it is
I who thinks that I should not have freedom and that is the
reason that I see those steel walls in front of me? Maybe I
only think that I think that I should be free? Or maybe it
is this, that I think only because I should?
Pain, blood, the lunatic has tried to break free but broke
his nose on the steel wall of his cell. I must be unworthy
of freedom if I don't even know whether I think I should
have it! Can it be that because I do not really think that I
should be free, I can't break out of my imprisonment? On the
other hand, maybe the length of my imprisonment is only an
illusion created by the monotonous walls around me and I am
just waiting for the rain to stop? For even though I cannot
see more lightning and there is no more thunder to be heard
I can still feel the rain... That is how it should be! I am
hiding from the rain in this little box shaped cell, wait, I
think the rain has stopped!
Darkness, fear, the lunatic has blacked out trying to get
out of the cell by walking through the door. I have been
hiding from the rain! But, no, I am not out of my cell; it
is only now that I have entered it... But why? Can it really
be that even now I do not recognize my right for freedom?
All this time that I spent hiding from the rain and waiting
to be free and only when the rain ended I've lost my
freedom. Am I forever destined to escape the shadow thrown
by objects visible only to me? No, for in the real cell I do
not even have those objects to hold me, here there is
nothing to confine me, but myself. But why is it then that I
am still here?! I have earned my freedom, or at least the
will to think that I have!
Freedom! Sun, softness and light! At last, I am free! Light,
ecstasy, the pain is gone, soft white walls all around the
lunatic, sun shines through a window high above. Freedom?