Svetlana Yulia Kozlovsky I’ve been staring at the grey, golden and white walls and the so-called classy furniture consecutively with maddening intensity like felons had the prison cell printed in their minds, I’d this Goddamn Mansion. My skin was burning and my lungs were suffering burning from lack of oxygen. This textured ceiling of the repulsing pink room with stars and the whole screwed universe model was going to be a lasting nightmare once I get out of here, I reckon. There was always something to be done, something to crave, something to ruin but in this dreadful vortex of whatever hell, life was frozen. Lack of human contact, thrill, chase, and purpose was weighing on my spirit. I wanted to break free and get loose. Like Rubik’s cube, several scenarios had run through my mind of my possible escapades, all with less than 20% survival chances. It wasn’t my soil, I was a strange
Read more