The moment I step out of the dorm room hallway and into the common area, my sense of values takes a new blow.

An ice block—no, an ice prison.

Right in the middle of the dining room where I had chili con carne with Maria, a person is encased in a block of ice. A single hand is raised defensively—this person had no time to react or respond in any way before she was trapped. She was encased in mere moments.

I shudder. For once, it’s not the cold’s fault. If I look a distance away, I can catch a glimpse of another such block where the receptionist would normally stand. A third block envelops a young man on a nearby couch, his hands still holding a local newspaper. They all hold looks of alarm, which didn’t even have time to become terror. In an instant, they became prisoners; trapped insects, in ice instead of amber. My eyes instinctively avoid the prisoner’s own. I don’t want to see; I don’t want to empathize with these poor people. The fear would disable me, and I need to keep moving forward.

Day 1 Afternoon 02 - Frozen Hostel