Gone is the reality check. The big one. It’s not a part of “It Takes a Criminal to Know One”. It’s an interpretation of the end of my mentality as a civilian. It’s an interpretation of my introduction to the ugliness of incarceration, from diabolical inmates to nasty guards.

I had gotten a taste of the American Dream, but my sudden incarceration cut that dream short as I was pulled into the system. Hence the arm clutching the American flag and the dream catcher as it’s being sucked into the earth (I’m always depicted in each piece somehow).

Reality hit a little harder when I came across a childhood friend. The last time I seen him we were little kids. I remembered a little Haitian boy whose parents always dressed him up in church clothes. We reunited as adult criminals. He had become an accused murderer, of several people. I thought about his mother and how she used to give us those Flintstone’s push-pops after church. What would she have said to the two of us sitting in jail on our way to prison? It was a time I seriously started reflecting on life and the decisions I had made.

My friend is represented as the little boy in church clothes with the Darth Vader shadow.





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