Chapter Twelve
Nomad
The single, bare light bulb is still there. It shines in my eyes like always. The chamber pot is in its usual place. The single bed with the soft blankets keeps me warm just as before. Almost everything is the same as when I walked out of my cell a few days ago. Is that all the time that has elapsed? It seems I’ve just completed a twenty-year sentence. When I push back the covers and sit up, it suddenly feels more like forty.
My sore arms, legs and shoulders keep me bed bound. Then constant, jabbing pains set to work, my muscles making me hurt even more after all the sufferings other people put me through. I rub my bleary eyes, forcing the double images into a coherent whole one.
There are two exceptions from the last time I was here; one is a dark bundle to the si
