Sanctuary of {in}sanity {Xylan & Rayon}
Dec 15, 2014 4:16:32 GMT -5
Post by Reco on Dec 15, 2014 4:16:32 GMT -5
Name: Rayon Kesstnea
I wish I could have adopted my fathers business. The point is: for running a business you not only need to count as an adult under the law of Panem, but you also need a license. My mother didn‘t have such a license at the time. ... Taking the circumstances in account, stealing garbage seemed like a smart thing. It never occurred to me, that this stuff still had some ... real value in the eyes of the Capitol ... or, that it was a puzzle-part of an all-including utilization and recycling-system.
I had to learn (and don‘t doubt, the Capitol makes sure I `ll never forget...), that there was no such thing as a twilight zone of right or wrong. Whether you are within the fence or you are some sort of rebel, right?
I listen...or rather watch to Xylans hands. I notice feelings of admiration for my cell mate. This guy found a way out! ...He had been free, ...only for a very short time, but nonetheless free. While he talks I have the feeling as if I can see Xylans descriptions right in front of me. Though I only knew those animals from pictures, the impression is so vivid like a dream of an abundant meal I sometimes have at night. It‘s this kind of dream that leaves you even more hungry than you usually are when you wake up. ...Then I think, Xylan doesn‘t know what else to say, but he starts to move his hands again. They only form one single word: Freedom!
„Thank you.“, I hear myself reply after a while and wipe my nose with my sleeve. I feel happy and sad at the same time but happiness predominates. So I smile back at him and close my eyes. When I got arrested, all I could think of was how to protect my sister from the peacekeepers. So I didn‘t even dare to scream... . A strange question rises up in my mind: „Xylan?“ I watch him again. „May I ask you...why did you leave home? ...What does your family say?...“ It is the same time I utter my question, that I realize: What if Xylan doesn‘t have a family or home anymore? That would be a cruel definition of freedom. I understand if he doesn‘t want to tell me. Yet I can‘t help but look him in the eyes and then watch his hands.
I wish I could have adopted my fathers business. The point is: for running a business you not only need to count as an adult under the law of Panem, but you also need a license. My mother didn‘t have such a license at the time. ... Taking the circumstances in account, stealing garbage seemed like a smart thing. It never occurred to me, that this stuff still had some ... real value in the eyes of the Capitol ... or, that it was a puzzle-part of an all-including utilization and recycling-system.
I had to learn (and don‘t doubt, the Capitol makes sure I `ll never forget...), that there was no such thing as a twilight zone of right or wrong. Whether you are within the fence or you are some sort of rebel, right?
I listen...or rather watch to Xylans hands. I notice feelings of admiration for my cell mate. This guy found a way out! ...He had been free, ...only for a very short time, but nonetheless free. While he talks I have the feeling as if I can see Xylans descriptions right in front of me. Though I only knew those animals from pictures, the impression is so vivid like a dream of an abundant meal I sometimes have at night. It‘s this kind of dream that leaves you even more hungry than you usually are when you wake up. ...Then I think, Xylan doesn‘t know what else to say, but he starts to move his hands again. They only form one single word: Freedom!
„Thank you.“, I hear myself reply after a while and wipe my nose with my sleeve. I feel happy and sad at the same time but happiness predominates. So I smile back at him and close my eyes. When I got arrested, all I could think of was how to protect my sister from the peacekeepers. So I didn‘t even dare to scream... . A strange question rises up in my mind: „Xylan?“ I watch him again. „May I ask you...why did you leave home? ...What does your family say?...“ It is the same time I utter my question, that I realize: What if Xylan doesn‘t have a family or home anymore? That would be a cruel definition of freedom. I understand if he doesn‘t want to tell me. Yet I can‘t help but look him in the eyes and then watch his hands.
