"I make the bed and look at the bars that cover the whole prison, the turret with its windows and powerful spotlights. I remember when I told you, “Whatever happens, we’ll look up at the sky, the constellation of Orion and the moon, and we’ll remember this moment.” I think I may have lied to you. From here the spotlights impede the view of the moon and the stars. I close my eyes from fatigue. Sleep enters softly, pleasantly, it surrounds me, until finally I’m in the forests and mountains again, you both look at me and laugh, the little hummingbird points his finger at me, “ile nuna” (look, moon) and I say to him, “Yes son, the moon,” and we escape again, and I no longer belong to the prison."
- Hans Niemeyer, Requiem for the Passing Moon