I shifted, adjusting myself over the thick roots of the tree. “But don’t you care that we are not really free? They tell us what they want us to know, and that’s all. We’re not even allowed to leave the country when we want to. We’re being kept.”

You were very calm, didn’t say anything for a while. “You’re making it sound worse than it is,” you finally said. “And how do you know it’s really better anywhere else? Ultimately, we’ve got to work with what we have. It’s as easy as that.” You smiled and looked at me. “See it as a game—everyone knows the rules. And if you can’t change them, there’s no point in worrying.”

A cool wind started to blow, and I felt a shiver, goose bumps on my arms.

“But maybe we can change them,” I said, feeling foolish suddenly, reaching for something that was no longer there.

You smiled lightly. Your complete lack of worry surprised and relieved me. “To answer your question . . . It would be nice to go and see it one day. The West. But not as an escape. I’m not like David in Giovanni’s Room.” You smiled again, and a rush went through me. “But I’d like to see something else. ’Cause you need to try things out and see them for yourself, right?” You slapped my knee and heaved yourself up. “C’mon, dreamer, we’ve got to get going now, unless you want to sleep out here on this field.”

The rain had stopped, and everything around us was quiet. The sun came out, faint and ready to disappear behind the horizon. We walked down the road with our thumbs stretched out, but no cars stopped for us. We walked and walked until the sun set, and we still hadn’t gotten anywhere. The fields around us were wet from the rain, not ideal for camping, and we didn’t know what to do. Finally we found a farm where a family agreed to put us up for the night. The farmer’s daughter showed us the barn, where they allowed us to sleep. She brought us bread and lard, which we devoured like wolves. Then we spread out our sleeping bags on the hay beside each other.