I walked in circles. It was extremely difficult to make the hours pass, measured only by the sporadic rays of sunlight filtering through the porthole. I often trembled with nervousness and struggled to reason despite the excruciating feeling of being in danger. It was an endless, nerve-wracking wait. Mid-afternoon. Late afternoon. Dusk. Night. Fear prevailed over everything. It was like a heavy cloak pressing down on my shoulders. If the fear had been lethal, then I would not have lived long enough to see America.