I stick out from other inmates, I'm much taller and having a giant tattoo on my neck didn't help. Oh yeah, and just my name across my I/d BYERS, MARSHALL seemed like a homing beacon for every eye ball. I spent a few days there avoiding eye contact, questions or any interaction. I focused on listening. Every chance possible I ran for the phones, hearing my families voice was a minuet escape. A moment of emotional safety, comfort, stability and protection from harm.
I witnessed pure evil, and if that wasn't enough, the oppression of another long uncomfortable bus ride to the edge of nowhere was physically crippling. Not knowing when I would be stabbed or stomped to death, I started rerouting thoughts. Remembering my son and daughter laughing while pushing them super high on the swing set. Reliving memories of skipping rocks across the Sky River, swimming, peacefully falling asleep in the hot summer sun, laying in the tall wispy green grass. Being held and kissed by women.
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