They call it a prison: a yellow-painted wall.

TR
Drawing on cardboard with ink pen.
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They call the prison a wall painted in yellow; it is not the prison, but my longing for you that kills me, my love. These bars do not merely shut the world out; like a serpent coiling around them, they imprison the memories and sorrows within. Prison is not just four walls; it is that intense yearning from which one cannot escape. Longing turns not only the heart but also the thoughts into pain, like a river of sorrow.

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