“Inspection!” The guard shouts as the door bursts open. Your room is turbulently tossed while you stand helplessly aside. You begin to look around. You see the walls, the bars, the guards, the chains; they all begin to dissolve. You realize your prison isn’t physical. It’s born of pressure. Of the fear you might disturb the eggshells scattered around you. Wake up comrade, there’s work to be done.