Many times I think, I am certain, that if we had been kept in Security Isolation until today (referring to the time when this book was written, 1945-1996), a full 45 years, we could have survived, and something more: We would have been happy because within the place where they locked us in order to crush us, we managed to live a full life. I cannot help but admit that we had a privilege that few people have been granted – if such a precedent exists. We had our love. Within the unbearable darkness of my cell and the intolerable, electrified night of Niko’s cell, we lived our own love story, which gave its own light to the soul and not only. To the soul and to our minds. We had the great privilege that this love, this passion, was nourished by the community of our thoughts, our decision that we carried with us long before falling into their hands – to prevent us from being crushed physically, psychologically, and spiritually, but rather: to crush their plans and methods ourselves. I believe we succeeded, and that makes us proud and, I dare to say, happy. We mocked our torturers – and that made us laugh. We revealed their cowardice, showing beneath the inflated “masters” what they truly were: timid, insignificant little people – and we enjoyed it. Determined to die, we made plans for the future, always putting forward the question ‘if we live’ – and we saw them come alive. Through our correspondence, we broke the torture of Isolation – and that was our happiness. We raised our child within those cells – and longed for the new life we would leave behind us. I must admit: We were privileged.
