In a world of ideas, a realm of letters, we once dwelled. Our positive thinking propelled us forward, not by choice, but by necessity. This optimistic outlook was our only refuge from the brink of madness. Humans reassure each other of their freedom, yet we reside in the illusion of liberty. Every slave perceives themselves as free. We often speak of opposites to restore a semblance of equilibrium. Freedom, the grandest illusion, serves as a tool for guilt and societal control. We fervently believed in this deception. The freedom to choose, to live, to buy and sell, to discern good from evil—these were never genuine choices. It was always askew, a mechanism unseen. Perhaps that's why I lingered in the black cave for so long. Maybe I truly chose it. Maybe I was free. I lost track what is true and what is not. I did not know you.

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