Creativity, art, poem
Through the small window above me I could see only a blur rush of Payne's grey that obscured the night. Lying in my dank bed, I could hear the roaring of the rain above us, above ground, accompanied by the regular dripping of rainwater onto the beds, the cupboards, and the floor. Occasionally lightning flashed, bleaching my side of the dormitory momentarily. Sometimes a crackling rumble followed, hardly audible in the rain.
Although my body ached from the day's toil, I had difficulty getting to sleep. There was a mild, staying stench in the air, somewhat putrid, but our noses had accustomed themselves to it. The lumpy bed, tonight dampened by the leaking water, was hardly a comfort, but by now we had gotten used to it as well. Some of us had taken out our uniforms and other assorted rags to use as blankets.
[...] It was only natural and understandable to chase after a better life, for who did not? When we are given not all the fields, whole seas, and the entire skies but only a small patch of land, we plant a garden, and perhaps in it we even dig a trench, hoping that we may have not only a pond, but a patch of the sky captured in the oval mirror; and when we are given not even a patch of land, but only a cell, we learn to paint, to take pictures, to capture with words, the grasses, the seas, and the skies, that we may have these with us, no matter that the cell is very small. [...]
[...] Darwin's evolution shook faith when it shook the world; but in the end, religion still stood, for some, robust as a bronze sculpture. Here was Daniel, a firm believer who had reconciled Darwinism and religion, even though it was stated explicitly in the Bible that the world was created in seven days. He contended, shouting above the rain, that St. Augustine had written that Genesis was not to be interpreted literally, that “seven days” were not, in fact, seven days as we understand them to be, in human time. [...]
[...] It kept out neither chill nor heat nor vermin, and it certainly did not prevent the rain from coming in. On wet days like this, both rain and chill would seep in; on dry days, the aridity would be stifling, trapped because that singular window could not be opened; while on all days, no matter if it was wet or dry, cockroaches and mice were not a rare sight. When one was fortunate, one might even meet varmints that were larger than mice. [...]
[...] transfers are explained Tony, listening almost as intently as Angel, his characteristic smile vanished altogether. “Transfers to be transferred to Sector Group 153, duties to be taken over by you're rather unlucky today, you Wade decided, looking at me, with his lips turned down slightly at the corners, “Both of you are doing the Sunday sentry, of all punishments, at the North Post, of all places; but Daniel, at the very least, retains a stroke of good luck; he doesn't have additional duties in his hands, unlike “Don't worry, I'm sure it's not that Tony said, flashing a smile towards Daniel and me, following which George reminded us that it was time to wash our cups, trays, and cutlery, before starting work, as the announcements closed with a note that all transfer of duties would only take place after four working days. [...]
[...] he returned casually, almost breaking into laughter, don't quite remember! But these things are such trifles; you don't always have to bother about them. Besides, it's such a long way; and how often is it that they actually malfunction? And even if they do, what does it matter?” It was the absolute unconcern with which he shrugged the issue off that quite disgusted me. I then proceeded to ask, not without some agitation in my tone, whether he was aware that he may have contributed to Daniel's state. [...]
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