The reality of the town in which I live, and of the countryside around it is uninteresting, predictable, dull, and endless. The most interesting things in my town happen on the television, and they can't be reached or shared; they remain distant, and I remain isolated. Life in my town is as unpredictable and as lively as the corner traffic light. There is a certain regularity in my town. When I venture to the edge of my town, I can see the surrounding countryside. It's hasn't much definitionmostly flat, and it never seems to end; no matter where one looks.
In the early morning, I always look with hope on my town. As the day wears on, though, its predictability, dullness, and endlessness gain strength. By the end of the day, I feel crushed by an oppressiveness that doesn't touch me, and that I can't touch. This town, then, is my prison by day.
With the twilight, hope begins to stir again. The sameness begins to be relieved by a blurring of familiar objects. As night begins to fall, my town begins to take on a new persona. The lights in the town create a new and inviting atmosphere. The dark of the countryside defines the limits of my world, so that the endless sameness can be held at bayoutside of my town. There is no predictability in my town now. The
patterns of light surrounding pools of darkness create an allure that puts an end to all thought of dullness. Now, I'm sure that something interesting is waiting for me in my town. I don't know what it is, but I know that it must be there. I really must venture out into my town into the dark to seek the pleasures of the light.
I live in two towns really. I must go to my butterfly now, because the caterpillar is on its way.
Reality for those people outside of Spandau Prison in Berlin was that Albert Speer, a convicted war criminal, was inside of that prison, and that he would stay in that place for a period of 20 years. Reality for the guar...