all this practice, all this saying, all this scrambling about. god i need a cigarette, it’s been so long. how many days now? three? four? it’s hard to tell here, they do little to keep us in track, they do much keep us from knowing. first they blocked out the windows so we couldn’t tell if it was day or night, but i tried to follow my own internal clock. waking and sleeping and marking the cinderblock during the intervals. who knows how off i had gotten during that first week. they just took us of our cells and repainted the walls.

… blech, i did this already with How it Was