THE DAYS in prison are long. I am always thinking of my teenage son, my aging mother and the one I love, with thoughts that become increasingly difficult to bear with each passing day. I still have many years to spend within these walls and, to avoid total despair, I try to occupy every free minute of my day by assigning myself tasks, whether they be cultural, recreational or professional. And I mean every moment.

The armoured door of the cell is opened at 8 in the morning and I have about half an hour to make it to class. In fact, I decided to go back to school to finally get that famous piece of paper. If everything goes well, I’ll get my diploma as an IT expert.

Classes end at 12:30 noon and I return to my cell to eat a bit before rushing off to the music room. With three other companions of misfortune we set up a small band that’s not too bad… we call ourselves B.L.G. (Bastarda La Galeria), which means Freaking Hard Luck. Once a month we play together in the prison theatre, in front of the prisoners, their friends, family, as well as in front of some distinguished visitors.

After an hour of rehearsing on Mondays and Wednesdays, I return to the radio-journalism class given by Antigone, an infinitely precious association that deals with prisoners’ rights. There, we develop, write and record news articles, columns and free ideas to air on Friday with a GRC (Giornale Radio Cacere, Prison radio journal) that is included in the musical “Jailhouse Rock” program which airs on popular national stations.

After rehearsals on Tuesdays and Thursdays, I participate in a creative writing workshop which has made me aware of a poetic side that I did not know I had. I even managed to publish two pieces of poetry.

Every Friday after class, I attend a meeting of prisoner representatives which is always organized by Antigone, where we, with the help of the authorities, talk about and try to solve the many problems that plague the prison environment.

I work as a librarian from 4 pm to 6 pm every day except Saturday. The pay is not as good as for other jobs, not even enough for a day’s supply of cigarettes.

But, for me, I get great satisfaction looking after the books, offering advice, and succeeding in getting others excited about reading.

I spend my Saturdays in the music room playing with BLG. At the moment, we are preparing a new “programme” for the next show. There’s a little bit of everything in it: Italian music, great foreign rock classics and even a few songs that we composed.

When the armoured door of the cell closes at 8 pm, I barely have the strength to prepare a small dinner or watch something on one of the eleven TV channels available… I inevitably fall asleep, dead tired. In addition, whenever the central library organizes small courses, or just discussions on history, literature, philosophy or psychology, I wouldn’t miss them for the world.

Time is long in prison, but I think I have found a wonderful strategy to avoid boredom: to set one’s brain “in motion”.

Then comes the most difficult day of the week for me: Sunday.

In prison, everything stops on Sundays. There are no courses, no activities and no chance to meet with one’s family. You can’t make the famous ten-minute weekly phone call and you are not allowed to leave the service.
On Sundays, all my dark and sad thoughts come rushing back. On Sunday, especially Sunday, I feel the crushing weight of detention. But on the other hand, I have done wrong, so I deserve it. I only hope that everything that I do will be taken into account by whomever and that it will reflect positively on my conduct record, so that this long sentence that I’ve been given may be shortened.

Cheers to the readers.