Letter 87

8 May 2016

Dear C,

It's a Sunday evening, the sun is beautifully shining up in the sky still...

I can only gather that from the reflection of the dark pink clouds in the windows of the building in front of me. I almost forgot how it is like to feel the evening air on my skin.

Yesterday I received an invite to see the border agency. And guess what? On the envelope front, someone wrote number 38 and then tried to scratch it off with a pen. 38 again. Why am I seeing this so often? And what does it mean?

The was a fight that broke out yesterday on the exercise yard. Again. But this time 3 guys were involved - all very young ones. All of them are in the segregation unit now. I saw the whole fight, there was a lot of commotion happening, but the guards quickly interrupted it and the afternoon exercise was cancelled - we all had to return to our buildings. Sometimes when I am jogging here I can sense the violence creeping in everywhere, it's like it's waiting just for the right moment to erupt. This fake sense of stability and peace here cannot be controlled at all times.

I had a surprisingly nice conversation with that Jamaican guy called Jermaine. He claims he is a man of God and seems like he is quite religious.

He throws the bible passages right, left and centre - 99% of which I do not understand. But it is nice to see being so passionate about something. Jermaine said that he would love to see my artwork one day. He lives in building number 6 and I am in 5 - so the only way he could see it, is for me to bring it on the yard. I don't really feel that much comfortable showing my paintings to people - they are not that good. But I promised him I would. Oh well. He will also be deported from the UK - to Jamaica. He has already spent some time in prison and has 3 more years to go. I wish him all the best.

On the subject of the painting - I finished another one yesterday. It's a watercolour rabbit. I must say like it. It was fun to play with the colours and with the way I splashed the paint all over the paper. I like this loose style - it's like I tell a story, but I never finish it - the viewer is free to create the ending for themselves.

You know C, I simply cannot wait for the day, where I would be able to walk into an art store and see all the art materials available. I am sure there is a whole world of art supplies out there - the world I have no idea about. It's so strange that I only got this huge interest in painting here in prison. It's like something guided me into this. Weird.

Last night I had a dream I was at the seaside again. The sun was shining and the sea was warm. I never swam but I dipped my feet in the water and it was heavenly. I could almost feel the water touching my feet as I was sleeping.

One thing for sure I really, really want to do once I get my freedom back is to spend a day on a beach. Just one day. I don't understand why I am longing for it so badly, but I am. Who knows, maybe I will discover the meaning of this mysterious number 38 there?

This morning Jose came to see me in my cell with the cheeky smile on his face. The moment he walked in I knew something was up. He asked me if I could sell him some green tea I bought a few weeks ago. Silly guy. I gave it to him. He was very grateful - this type of tea calms him down and I know he has some anger issues. Jose has no money here and he hardly hears or speaks with his family. I don't have money either, but if giving him my pack of tea can help him in any way - the pleasure is all mine. He promised he would return this to me, but I refused it. I only asked him to invite me one day to have this tea together. He promised he would (he never did, but I never minded anyway).

Hope you are doing ok C. How wonderful would it be if I could sit with you in a park now and just talk... Just talk silly things, serious matters. Just talk.

Good night my love.

Forever yours,

Sebastian