savannah schroll guz
The doctor became convinced that The Mossad would come for him, would wrench him from his bed, hook his feet to their transport, and flay his body by driving in circles over sandy soil and jagged rock. He had dreams of this agony again an again, and he would wake gasping for air, tangled in damp bed clothing, his heart beating so loudly he could hear nothing else. And so, he spent many nocturnal hours pacing his hovel’s cold flagstone floor, seeking the piercing chill of each uneven square against his feet. The cold stones were confirmation of his sustained freedom but also, he felt, a portent of his eventual incarceration.
Feeling he was eternally observed, though seeing no one, he became inclined to flee residences without notice. He whittled his possessions down to a few portable items and became a living ghost: there one day, vanished by morning.
Savannah Schroll Guz
Why Orwell Matters