But not long afterwards I, myself, was in a cell on my own.  I remember walking around in this little concrete space.  The door slammed.  The echo that’s slamming in my ear and so, this is what it’s like, this moment you’re dreaming of.  You’re in the freedom struggle, and you’re going to be locked up, and will you be brave and what’ll it be like?  And I’m walking around, and I’m singing and I’m whistling, and I’m trying to keep up my courage.  There’s a mat on the floor, there’s a little toilet in there with a wire thing that you can pull.  And five minutes, ten minutes, I don’t have a watch, 20 minutes. The time goes so slowly. It’s just you, your toes, the wall, your toes, the wall, looking at what to do, no one to speak to, nothing to do, nothing to occupy yourself.  It was far worse than I’ve ever imagined, far, far, far worse.  I thought you just had to be brave.  You bared your chest.  Let the enemy come.  Let them do their damnedest. And in a way, you’re fighting your own loneliness, your own eagerness to have someone to talk to.