My escape to freedom

What the reader observes, and perhaps will read, is my escape to freedom and unfortunately, of course, it was not a real escape, but I wished it were. This was the only escape available from Fouché Prison with its high walls and iron bars; the escape of the soul and mind. And if I could escape, I would choose the real escape; the physical escape. I also assume that the readers would prefer to hear an exciting story about a prisoner escaping from a highly guarded prison rather than reading my thoughts and comments on political and philosophical issues. I could not speak, but I could think, and then I decided to exploit this ability to the fullest extent. At first, I held silent internal dialogues about all things and commented on the books I was reading and the events happening outside the prison. Then I began to jot down thoughts, initially secretly, but later I became more "brave," so I extended my thinking, read, and wrote. These are thoughts about freedom, whether physical or spiritual, about life and destiny, about people and events, about the books I read and their authors, about imaginary messages that were not written for my children; in other words, about everything that a prisoner’s mind might think during two thousand long days and nights.