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The words from the images:
The sound of something heavy being dragged along the stone corridor was no more comforting. At least there would be no more suffering for that man. If only he could be that fortunate.
Time resumed its crawl. The deafening silence went unbroken, and he fell in and out of fitful slumber. As time advanced as it does, he found sleep escaping him, and he stood to resume his usual day’s course.
One step. Two steps. Three, four, five. Wall. He turned.
Five more steps. Wall. Always the same. Every direction. Five steps, wall. Five steps, wall.
It was the same with his mind. It too was confined, not by stone, but by his suffering. Inward he dwelt. His fever. His scars. His seeping wounds. His mind-bending hunger and unquenchable thirst.
So he paced, slowly with clumsy feet, waiting and fearing the inevitable. They would come. The sun brought with it the guards. And the guards brought with them the suffering.
Eternity stacked upon eternity. Hours passed, though they may as well have been years. The face of his daughter stared back at him. A thousand lifetimes with her, and each one squandered. How many times was he too busy to read to her? Too tired to play? Unwilling to be inconvenienced? What a retched man he was. Every second was worth a lifetime, and he had wasted every one.
Suddenly the familiar clang of keys returned.
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