a temporary prisoner

Where do i remember this blog's title phrase from?
i don't remember.
it has always stayed with me, though.

I was nervous to start these writings, because what would i begin with? The dream i had last night about being too scared to engage in a dance contest in the canned goods aisle of the supermarket, then finding myself part of some political resistance movement and refusing to tell a family where the body of their beloved daughter was? (covered in wool jackets and ash, beneath an upturned shopping cart, with placid eyes staring out from under black, sooty lashes) Hm.
Or do i start with The List? the one i've been promising to a friend of mine (ok, the only friend of mine- more on that later), the list of all the different 'types' of customers we've encountered while toiling together as counter-girls at a bakery. a generalized list, of course... i do hate to pigeonhole people. ;)
Or should i tell everything about myself? or nothing at all?
And really, does it matter; does anyone want to read all or any of this anyway?
It's alright. i am doing this for me. because if i don't, i will surely explode. i am seeking freedom, weightlessness!
next time: a list of letters(characters) from the universe. what will they spell?
happy leap year, everybody.