Sunlight It's absolutely inevitable! So just take a deep breath and accept this adversity. But look! A distinguished visitor deigns to visit my tiny north-facing cell. Not the chief making his rounds, no, but a ray of sunlight as evening falls, a gleam no bigger than a screwed-up stamp. A sweetheart fit to go crazy about. It settles there on the palm of a hand, warms the toes of a shyly bared foot. Then as I kneel and, undevoutly, offer it a dry, parched face to kiss, in a moment that scrap of sunlight slips away. After the guest has departed through the bars, the room feels several times colder and darker. This military prison special cell is a photographer's darkroom. Without any sunlight I laughed like a fool. One day it was a coffin holding a corpse. One day it was altogether the sea. A wonderful thing! A few people survive here. Being alive is a sea without a single sail in sight.