Imagine if you could feel the walls you put up around yourself and see the distortion of your perception. How do we deceive ourselves? Suddenly I woke up in this tiny glass box, its hard to breath in here... The air is stale my body aches in this confinement. It is too small to contain me. I cannot see out of here clearly. I fear that my eyesight will become permanently damaged if I have to look out here any longer. I begin to feel sadness . Is this what I have become? How do I get out of here? I feel trapped. The company of my own breath makes me claustrophobic. I need to be free. How was I so blind?. These walls have put limits on me for years. The air is getting thicker. I feel my self suffocating. I’m becoming dizzy. Is recognising my own distortions of reality so nauseating? Should I not touch them and feel them? In each corner of this tiny box there is a story. My story. My fears, my pains, my doubts, my heart is in here. My soul is in here. Will I become comfortable in my box? Or do I need fresh air... I must break through these distorted walls.. I must move and dance and be free... How would society respond to seeing these boundaries and limitations in symbolic physical form? Will they stop to wonder? Will they intervene.