At some time, I had been a free man in the city. I was walking around the perimeter of a circular corporate office---it's courtyard was constructed of lain brick surrounded by a low brick wall---when I spontaneously decided to venture into the building and explore its hallways. I wanted nothing more than to trace a circuit along the entirety of each office floor, to peer around the endlessly bending corners and pass the time this afternoon.
Without much reflection or hesitation I entered one set of double-doors on some indeterminate floor and began to examine the room around me. Almost instantly, as soon as I visually registered the throngs of people milling about the room dressed uniformly in cream colored jumpsuits, I became aware that someone had shut and locked the doors behind me and that I was now captive, unjustly imprisoned in what turned out to be a mental institution.
As I turned around to leave, assuming my entrapment to be an accident, I could see that hefty guards outfitted in navy uniforms had already taken their posts in front of and alongside the only set of doors into and out of this place, and that release would not be offered to me. The guards entered and exited freely, dutifully flashing their credentials to one another as they slid through the doors, which opened ajar just enough to let one body pass. I stood and watched them enter and exit, changing shifts like clockwork, and they never tired of their posts.
Years passed...maybe three or four. I paced in circles around the large common room of the mental institution, among the other crazies, all during that time.
Eventually, I obtained information that a close friend and confidant, a tall, athletically built bald man, would attempt a break from the ward. I witnessed only the aftermath of the unsuccessful escape, however, my friend being strong-armed and dragged by four guards away from the open doors of the ward's lobby, into a remote padded cell at the end of a short hallway. He had at least made it that far.
Soon my friend would attempt again to escape the mental hospital, this time inviting me to join him. He managed to stir up some commotion among the patients and prisoners, apparently leading a chase towards the elevators which accessed the rooftop. The guards left their posts in pursuit, and I alone ventured through the double-doors of my prison and slipped out, darting through the halls to another elevator, which I rode down to the ground floor. It seemed no one was pursuing me.
The main lobby of the building, the courtyard, the bricks, all looked as they had when I first encountered them. And I made haste to locate my friend, my savior, whom I had feared had been caught. I retraced my original circuitous path along the perimeter of the ground floor, around the ever-curving hallways, which were desolate. I was searching for something new, some tangible change. Exiting, I finally discovered my friend, sitting calmly on a bench in the courtyard, wearing a purple hoodie and dark sunglasses, and a stoic expression on his face. He was in disguise. I greeted him with cautious formality, just two men casually rendezvousing among the unseen predators, and we left the courtyard, and finally the premises.
We came to the street, where hispanic merchants were selling trinkets and small dolls from wooden wagon carts. I peered down at one basket of dolls, miniature and dressed in woven ponchos of many colors, all singing in unison the song "He Venido," and at that moment I understood that I was once again free. I picked up a black-and-white checkered gymnast streamer and began to spin in circles in the middle of the crosswalk, tracing a slanted ellipse dreamily around my body, gyroscopic, and with outspread arms I began to cry, overjoyed.
Eventually, I obtained information that a close friend and confidant, a tall, athletically built bald man, would attempt a break from the ward. I witnessed only the aftermath of the unsuccessful escape, however, my friend being strong-armed and dragged by four guards away from the open doors of the ward's lobby, into a remote padded cell at the end of a short hallway. He had at least made it that far.
Soon my friend would attempt again to escape the mental hospital, this time inviting me to join him. He managed to stir up some commotion among the patients and prisoners, apparently leading a chase towards the elevators which accessed the rooftop. The guards left their posts in pursuit, and I alone ventured through the double-doors of my prison and slipped out, darting through the halls to another elevator, which I rode down to the ground floor. It seemed no one was pursuing me.
The main lobby of the building, the courtyard, the bricks, all looked as they had when I first encountered them. And I made haste to locate my friend, my savior, whom I had feared had been caught. I retraced my original circuitous path along the perimeter of the ground floor, around the ever-curving hallways, which were desolate. I was searching for something new, some tangible change. Exiting, I finally discovered my friend, sitting calmly on a bench in the courtyard, wearing a purple hoodie and dark sunglasses, and a stoic expression on his face. He was in disguise. I greeted him with cautious formality, just two men casually rendezvousing among the unseen predators, and we left the courtyard, and finally the premises.
We came to the street, where hispanic merchants were selling trinkets and small dolls from wooden wagon carts. I peered down at one basket of dolls, miniature and dressed in woven ponchos of many colors, all singing in unison the song "He Venido," and at that moment I understood that I was once again free. I picked up a black-and-white checkered gymnast streamer and began to spin in circles in the middle of the crosswalk, tracing a slanted ellipse dreamily around my body, gyroscopic, and with outspread arms I began to cry, overjoyed.
