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Snow is Freedom

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Joined: 12 Mar 2004
Posts: 157
Location: Scotland

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It was minus eleven here inside my tent again yesterday. I'd been hoping for colder but then I'd lost my hat and scarf and my boots had decided this was the right moment to leak. Frostbite burns but even gentle snow makes you feel warm. f**k that for a game of snowballs. I went into the empty factory where I'd served my apprenticeship half a lifetime ago and made myself at home. I once built a snowman there that last until July thanks to some of the factories liquid Nitrogen. A snowballs throw away there are streams of cars commuting and bargain-hunting but the snow is too deep for any baillifs, security or police to reach me, even though they can see me on CCTV. I hope the snow lasts longer than the people. A family of Japanese deer live here too now, but they are too sensible and cautious to come inside. I'm going to liberate some straw before I leave, and magic up a stable for the deer as they won't have experienced weather like this in their lifetimes.

Conscience be my guide: an anthology of prison writings by Geoffrey Bould

An anonymous Turkish prisoner smuggled letters out of prison during the 1980's. He had been involved in anti-nuclear protests, and received a sentence of several years.

Snow is Freedom

It's snowing!
A while ago one of the young ones came over as I was sitting on my bed.
'It's snowing!' he said. 'It's beautiful outside. Come and have a look!'
He opened the window and from behind the iron grille we watched the flakes dance in the beam of the searchlights.
It felt like flying. It always does when I watch the snow fall - as if the flakes are stationary and I'm going up. But here I now had more of that feeling. The sharp contrast between the deep amber glow of the light - they use sodium lights - and the night blue of the sky enhances the mystery of the flickering the air that obey no dimensions. They defy the gross difference in size between themselves and the earth so as to levitate, rebelling against the pull of the gravity. Snow is freedom.
One of the kids asked: 'Who has the morning shift in the yard - us or the ward across?'
'If it's us we get to play snowballs. By the time they're through, it'll all be slush!'
'Don't worry' I said. 'No smuggler is going to go out in the yard at eight o'clock in the morning to play snowballs. It's only the politicals that are that romantic!'
And there we stood in awe, quietly whispering in respect to the silence snow commands, inhaling the cold air. It's just as cold inside, actually. The central heating is out of order and will be throughout this winter, so when I look around I see people sitting in their beds with their overcoats and woollen caps, I myself am like a gypsy: I'm wearing everything I own.
It's 1:30 am. Lights out upstairs. I wanted to go on so I'm at a table downstairs. There's me writing and two chronic insomniacs deep in discussion - in whispers: the rest are trying to sleep.
I do not believe we are in iron cages. For freedom is not an absolute concept we try to realise and suffer as we, perforce, fail, but the perception of our human condition in relation to the world and the conscious struggle for self-realisation. If there was no restraint, nothing to change, nothing to be changed, 'absolute' freedom, the concept of freedom would have no meaning. Man can only enjoy freedom in his choice to change. So, at this particular moment, I am figuratively or philosphically free while someone else who feels himself ineffective and irresponsible vis-a-vis the world is not, though he may roam across it all his life! Freedom is not a spatial category. As a poet said:'There are those whose bodies are imprisoned and whose minds travel; and those whose minds are imprisoned and whose bodies travel.'

Snow is Freedom - Tracey Curtis

It's 1:30 in the morning.
Someone says that snow is falling
'It's beautiful outside
Come take a look' he cried
Looking through the open window
Through the iron bars snow dances
In the blue night sky, he said
'It makes me feel like I am flying
As though the flakes are stationary
And I am flying up'

Snow is freedom
It makes me feel like I am flying
As though the flakes are stationary
And I am flying up

Worried that when when morning comes
All the best snow will be gone
But smugglers don't play in the snow
Only the politicals would be that romantic
Making snowballs in the cold air
Tasting fallen snowflakes on his tongue
Things he loved when he was young

Snow is freedom
It makes me feel like I am flying
As though the flakes are stationary
And I am flying up

There are those who spend their lives
Travelling the land and skies
But their minds are never free
Blind to everything they see
Something simple like the snow
Reminds him what he used to know
Though his body is in chains
Freedom's in his choice to change

Snow is freedom
It makes me feel like I am flying
As though the flakes are stationary
And I am flying up
Wed Dec 30, 2009 3:24 pm
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