Free

I had a dream today of Andrei Tarkokvsy, or at least, of a record box set where he was a composer.  But he never did any music compositions that I am aware of.  It was purchased at a warehouse that also does not exist, or at least, does not exist yet.  Chalk this up to me being out of sorts and having slept most of the day, despite wanting to be active.  The internet was also not being particularly cooperative for some reason.  Perhaps I caught a little bug, or I have the blues.

What is giving me a bit of the blues is the idea of prison- not the do as you please high life version of dirty dealers such as Martha Stewart or the regular prisons for straight up obvious crime, but the one of people who are jailed for something they believe in.  Political prison.  I doubt I will ever see the inside of one,  and thus question whether I truly believe in anything that much (although I suspect I might).  More than likely, I will not find out.  But, in the meantime, as I read and reflect on those who have been and are being held now (including the countless I will never know or read about), I wonder about how easy it is for things to be repressed in the daily life, and what it takes for a person, a nation, and ultimately a world to be truly free.