Released For Andy Levine At seven-thirty, when they unlocked the gate, he wandered out into a world of light. The local bus to the ferry left at eight, so he climbed aboard, refocusing his sight to long perspectives, feeling slightly sick at the foreign movements, fighting to ease his fright. The houses hurried by, a blur of brick at a speed he was unused to. Calm, just stay calm; a few deep breaths would likely do the trick, would pacify his every mounting qualm. He thought of quaffing down a pint of beer, of setting, once again, his own alarm. What could he do to quell the coming fear of city streets that could only do him harm, of living with his past, year after year?