[ The children and Ity left the room, and walked into the street. They went on until they reached the same ward she had been before.

“You must enter first.” the child said.

“Why?” Ity asked.

“You gave us the idea.” He said.

“Did I? What idea? I don’t remember.” she said. The child looked strangely at her, and said," You told us you would give us a dress for Mommy."

Ity felt she had no choice. The face of the little boy lit her own. She began to walk inside the place expecting to find the guard she knew that would stop her.

He didn’t show up. Enough light was entering through the skylight to make her blind. She couldn’t understand what was happening, again.

She had no control. You could say she had no free will, but felt whole, fulfilled, and loved. Why do we all fight for freedom and lose it in the fight? Why are those who want to control; the ones who are being controlled by others?

It all seems empty,
is it me or what surrounds me?
Why do I stop asking
myself questions?

It all seems so cold,
is it me or the rain?
Why am I so afraid of losing
what makes me be afraid?

{…Why are we searching for others to create new thought? Why can't we find it out by ourselves?}

It all seems dark,
is it me?
Are my eyes closed?
Is something covering my face?
No one knows.
Who can?

{…Me. You may ask for answers. There are none. You may be in the answer. There is none. You may be the answer. There is none. You may be the unsolved question. Then, when will you ask yourself? }

Is it me?
Is it me crying?
Is it me who suffers?
Is it me who tells you
I do not love you?

{…How much longer will we have to stand so much pain? How much longer will we have to live the need of others to control and have power? How much longer... As long as we are able to stop doing it ourselves. Life is not about them, life is about... Me. }

I do... Why did I tell you so?
Is it me or am I just blind?
Who is it really?
...I will understand.
I is not who I am.
He is who I am.

{…Who is me? Who is you? When will I realize hurting you is hurting me? When will I understand you pain is also mine? When... When I realize life is about you. }

Me? You?
Who is it?