Detention

As the solemn steel doors closed, a tomb stretched out before me, evoking a cinematic image of desolation and despair. The first night became a grim vat, in which I sat in a dungeon in the small one in which I had slept with nineteen male companions. Punctuated only by the soft light of a flickering bulb and the distant whisper of muffled speech. The cell’s claustrophobic confines and lack of food posed incredible challenges. Between the details of the seven shared canvases, I saw the unwavering energy of unity.

An unbreakable bond crystallized in the crucible of hardship, creating a bastion of support and comfort in the midst of our shared work. As the next night stretched, their icy covers touching my determination, I felt unworthy of the lack of shoes and the cold embrace of the immovable concrete floor.
A lack of intellectually stimulating talk isolated me more and more, leaving me in a sea of unspoken thoughts However, in the purgatory of our imprisonment, I found a living blanket of resilience. As prisoners lit the flame of hope on the desolate, parched walls of our prison, they defied the shackles of their situation and sought solace in the crucible of danger, creating a longing for a brighter tomorrow, where dreams resist the prison. And in the mysterious fabric of souls, some found comfort in the confines of their exile, viewing it as their own victory over a world that tried to stifle them.