The day the carnival comes to town, you put on your mask. After months of gathering the materials, you can finally leave. You tie the mask to your face snugly. Nothing short of a direct attack to the face will remove it.
You leave, locking your home as completely as you can. Your bondsmen would hover protectively, if they could, but they will not recognize you. You are completely unsupervised.
You and your mask join the throng of celebrants. The wine flows as freely as the words, and the connections made are fresh, full of life, and easily forgotten.
You celebrate, and you mingle, and you pretend to be free.