Prison I
Prison II
And a picture dictionary.
![](https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3H2jQ-eiOSKLpuphnJ0VOlUtTh_ZFpXxNsFoTkiG67A2BgXzsUTOJWIMrHkY9857rUDWQ8_T5lFy3AAJUNpVXrPcnunXfsewGAkBBouoUg707P9ZzqfIkGvCNP7s2i3rnbrRMTVMy10Bi/s400/Prison.png)
And a text for today, or maybe on next week:
In 2010 I stole a Van Gogh painting, but the police caught me. I was condemned, and I have to stay in the jail 20 years and one day. Too much time for me. I remember how the judge hit the table with his hammer. My lawyer looked me and said: "I'm sorry, lad". I was jailed in Rulton, the safest prison in the world. Today I waste my time in a small and stinky cell, sharing the space with a thug and with the snitch of the jail.
The prison? I can define it as a dark, sad and grey pit. High brick walls covered with razor wire; a wire fence which surrounds the yard and iron bars in every window or door. My cell is closed with bolt and lock. The wardens show me the key, making fun of me. But they don't know that I have the last laugh. I've secretly dug a tunnel under my bed, and this night I will sneak away. At 3 o'clock I'll crawl along the hole, arriving beyond the prison walls at 3.20. There, a car will pick up me. My intention is to travel to Nepal, where I'm going to hide myself some months. Later, I will start a new life in Moscow, Rusia.
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