“It was desolation, but intricate desolation -- desolation seasoned with spiritual softness amid leafy banks and seamless patchwork. It was not long before Tanner thought that this might be all that anyone -- anyone who'd been held eight years to the static regimen of prison life without privacy or dignity, brained by nonstop noise, ass whups, negative hormones, disrespecting homeboys and pathological guards -- could ask for.
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