He flies in his dreams.
In his dreams he soars in the heavens, twisting and turning through the blackness of the night, free to roam high above the confines of the streets as he spins and whirls in the air, laughing with glee as the restraints fall away and he can go higher, and higher.
In his dreams he is invincible, and infinite; nothing can affect him, the sadness and hatred of the small ant-people below, he is free from them, free to soar and glide as he pleases, free to move and dive, free to say and do whatever he wants and no one is going to stop him, even if they were able.
In his dreams the world is no longer a prison, but a playground, nothing can stop him from going down the slides of the waterfalls or climbing the rocks of the tallest mountains, he can jump from the tallest peak and simply fly away, never touching the hard, unforgiving ground.
In his dreams there are no restraints, no white walls, no harsh lights and no strong hands. They cannot touch him, push him down or hurt him anymore. He can spread his arms and cry out with joy, the pure happiness found only in those who are truly free. He is untouchable, a spirit in the world of the living.
In his dreams he is content, far more than anyone else.
Hamish Tso 11L