![]() ![]() When I smiled my relief and surprise, the man grinned back at me with that perfect sincerity we fear and call simple-minded.And while not completely free, never completely free, there was hope and fearful excitement in the new: a new passport, a new country, and new lines of excited dread on my young face, under the grey eyes. I’d escaped from prison almost two years before, but the fact of the fugitive life is that you have to keep on escaping, every day and every night.And the choice you make, between hating and forgiving, can become the story of your life. But in the flinch and bite of the chain, when it’s all you’ve got, that freedom is a universe of possibility. I realised, somehow, through the screaming in my mind, that even in that shackled, bloody helplessness, I was still free: free to hate the men who were torturing me, or to forgive them. It took a long time and most of the world to learn what I know about love and fate and the choices we make, but the heart of it came to me in an instant, while I was chained to a wall and being tortured. ![]()
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