The window with the open shutter creates an illusion of the world outside

The window with the open shutter creates an illusion of the outside world in the otherwise dark, sad and monotonous life in the prison cell.
 In a room where darkness is dense and silence oppressive, a window stands as the only bridge between captivity and freedom. The old glass bears the scars of the passage of time, thin scratches and dusty streaks that testify to years of loneliness and longing. But a small window stands open, like a vulnerable invitation to a world outside – a world that continues, regardless of what is within these walls.
 Through the iron-clad frames, the sky shimmers in deep blue, contrasting with the dim interior. The sunlight, which leaks through the opening, draws a pattern on the worn wooden floor, a reflection of freedom that can almost be touched, but never quite reached. The shadows of the bars create a distorted image of lattices, as if even the light cannot escape its own imprisonment.
 Inside, time stands still, the days merge into darkness. But outside, on the other side of the glass, the world lives on – the wind dances in the trees, the birds cross the sky, and perhaps, far away, there is a new beginning. The window becomes an illusion, a reminder of what once was, and what still can be.