In my tropical childhood, I climbed the front-yard tree. Higher. For solitude. Rest. To simply be. Sitting on knobby branches amid green leaves, pink blossoms.
Categories
Higher
Tag: escape
Categories
The way of escape
We walked into a solitary confinement cell at Alcatraz. Dark and small. With double doors to keep out any light. No way of escape.
The prisoners that were allowed to look outside or walk to the yard, had stunning views of San Francisco and the surrounding towns. Beautiful hills and shores.
But those in solitary saw nothing much beyond the confining walls of their dark cells.