The Pain which is never yours alone.

There comes that time again, that time when the other half of the heart in Evin prison needs to beat faster and harder.
It is once again that time when life in Evin is drained of the liveliest of people for having thought the impossible: Freedom

 

It is when the non corporal heart yearns not for the prison but for the hands left there, for those voices, their songs, those eyes and the flame of life burning in them.

Solitary for those who are terribly missed among loved ones, for those who have done nothing to deserve being confined behind bars and out of our reach.

Imprisonment for those who shout for freedom too loudly; and it seems logical.

This time the halves of our hearts in Evin are not only beating strong, but were also beaten up. Their empty hands facing batons and boots of their wardens, they are now bleeding in solitary confinement, far from the other halves of hearts beating in our chests.