I had lost my soul. Did my face already reflect this defeat?

Was it only a day or two before I threw myself at the fence or provoked a guard? I couldn’t. I needed to live but the harsh truth hit me like a ton of bricks that I wouldn’t if I stayed here. But how could I leave when others were executed for trying to escape, their bodies paraded before us?

What was it that Branko had said after each of the Soviet escapees were dangling from a rope? They had tasted freedom for two days.

You either get busy living or die where you stand.

 

The danger was not from trying to escape, I realised, but from trying and failing.