Prison

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Prison is a peculiar place. The same social norms that govern society do not apply here. Surprisingly, there is a certain order amidst the chaos that brings harmony to what would otherwise be almost unbearable circumstances. There's a universal barter system in place with the common currency being items purchased from the commissary. And the amount of human ingenuity it takes to transform the habitat into a livable environment is beyond measure. In a full block of 96 people you would not be hard pressed to find an electrician, engineer, architect, artist, chef, or baker. Whether you need something fixed or made from scratch, almost nothing is out of reach and anything is possible. I think when people think of prison they instantly think of violence and physical threats from top heavy goons, but what often gets dismissed is the amount of brains it takes to survive. Brilliant minds, which if nurtured instead of counted out, having their focus guided in the right direction, could make great contributions to society as a whole.

My story is not unique in any way from most other convicts. I'm not going to paint a picture of mistreatment or try to sway anyone's political opinion on the matter of prison reform. What I wish to do with this piece of work is simply share my story, and point out some places where there may have been missed opportunities for true rehabilitation; and then let you draw your own conclusions. Each of our individual stories may differ in degree, but it echoes the same song of millions of Americans either on this side of the wall, or on the other side but still chained to the system by probation or parole. But before I get into my prison experiences, let me give you a little of my personal background, and share some details from my past that may be relevant to my current situation.....

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