Donkey Conjecture

In the boundless super-prison, the grim-faced prisoner flew rapidly, trying to find something that could break the deadlock. His clothes were somewhat tattered, his messy white hair hanging loosely around him. His aged face was dark and gloomy, and his eyes, as though covered by countless dimensions, stared fixedly ahead, trying to glimpse a flaw in this endless prison. But unfortunately, there was none. At least, he had not yet found a way out.