7 June 2010
I stepped outside my jail cell yesterday morning expecting to die. At some point, I hoped, they would come for me when I'm not ready. But they didn't. And today I step outside my jail cell expecting to live. To have hope. To accept my fate of ennui.
The good thing about being imprisoned, and yes there are many, is that I get to work outside during the day, not have to worry about looking for a job and know that it's not likely I'll get fired. They feed me. Give me a place to live.
Kristin, you have to come with me
Why?
Because he's going to be there and I can't meet him alone
Yes you can.
Well, I can, but I don't want to. I need someone there
You didn't need anybody when you were talking to him
That was different.
Different how?
Well, it was impersonal. We were just writing back and forth. He couldn't see me. I couldn't see him. Different that way
Not different to me. Either see him or not, but don't take me to the gun. You go see the gun yourself.
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