E 'image that for many years, every now and then, before I get is the image of a person after once a bit 'long, say 10-15 years, finally released from prison.
The guards open the prison door, greet him and closing the door behind him.
And he is there, alone on a sidewalk in front of a busy street, completely free: the man who looks freedom, I came to call this picture.
And while I'm watching, I imagine the feelings this man while breathing slowly and deeply, curiosity, disbelief, sense of loss, indecision about where to go ... right, left, straight across the road ...
know what time it is free, which can go wherever he wants, which can take a bus or take a walk, or go to the bar for a drink.
And is there still, still, to contemplate freedom.
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