- An altered except from the text signed by J. And V.
The door closes and opens, then closes and opens again. Three months of
prison. A year of prison. I need to know if others are thinking about me
as much as I’m thinking about them. The days can’t go by fast enough
now. Four-hundred-eighty-two days of prison. Four-hundred-eighty-three
days of prison. Four-hundred-eight… I’ve lost count. Fuck. It’s better
that way. Counting is no good in prison. The arithmetic makes no sense
whatsoever. Prison has its own smell. A smell that gets all over you and
follows you around. I’ll never manage to get it off me. Yesterday
marked two calendars in prison. Two fucking years. I don’t get any
sleep. I’ve forgotten how to smile and now I can’t dream. “Clink clink”
in the night. They wake me up for a search. Maybe they’ll find the
shanks. Seven-hundred-fifty-one days of prison. Are you satisfied, my
dear judges? Pigs. Seven-hundred-fifty-two days of prison, pigs.
Seven-hundred-fifty-three pigs. Coming and going and off I go. Coming
and going and off I go. My cell is three meters by three meters. From
the second floor window I see 20% of the sky over the top of the fucking
prison wall. I walk through the yard like an automaton. I walk
kilometres in a yard measuring just a few meters. Boredom and boredom
again. Today I vomited my very soul. I vomited bars, walls, solitary
confinements, years of prison, judicial sentences. I vomited three years
of prison. I don’t want to count anymore. I completely close my eyes
and think. I think about my comrades, whom they’re keeping far away from
me in other prisons. I think about fires on the prison roofs. I think
about everything prison has tried to make me forget. I think about a
smile, a caress, a journey that doesn’t end over there where the wall
ends, a glance that isn’t trapped behind the fucking prisons bars. I
stop thinking. I open my hand. I look at the metal file I have. Now I
know. I know exactly what I have to do. Let’s go then, once again. This
time with feeling. Until the end. Long live anarchy.
http://bristolabc.wordpress.com/2012/04/22/one-day-of-prison-two-days-of-prison-three-days-of-prison-a-month-of-prison/
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