• There are no flowers in the woods; no beauty at all, just trees. It looks so empty that I just want to run from it and hide in my cell. But I know I can’t: this is the cell I’ve been trying to escape for the past six months. Six entire months of sitting and waiting, staring at those trees. I can see things beyond the gaps in the bars. Things like freedom.

    What makes the longing worse is that I can’t see anything that might stop me escaping. No fence, no guards, no dogs. I know they come at the edge of the forest, but it’s so tempting to simply run out and never be seen again. The only problem is that I’m never going to be seen again anyway – everyone thinks I’m dead. Sometimes I’m not even sure myself.

    I think it’s getting near to Christmas. There is snow on the ground and the trees have no leaves so it must at least be winter. In my heart it has always been winter. Or at least, since I lost myself almost a year ago. When they found me they said they would lock me up forever. It had been summer then, but I was cold. Cold as what I’ve done, which is all I want anyone to see. Maybe I can start again, say sorry. Say that I was wrong and that I’m only a man… but they’ll see through it. They saw through everything before, and they found me, leaving me here with nothing but dreams of freedom and these empty trees. Empty like me.