“Keep your shit together, don’t let the bastards grind you down.”

Sometimes, it can be hard for people to tell their stories, especially when trying to describe things that cannot be put into words. Photovoice is a way to deal with this – it is a research method where people take photographs about aspects of their lives or topics that are important to them.

The community is now watching, listening and aware of lockdowns inside our prisons. The persistence with media, radio and newspaper, and with emails and phone calls is finally paying off. Next – a protest. What else is left to do?

Jail is a journey, and it is certainly not over the moment they hand you a release certificate, open that gate and send you on your way.

But slowly, the control crept in. Subtle. Clever. Coated in love.

It’s gutting that you died spending your last eight years inside, especially when you were so close to the end of your sentence. And it’s gutless that I squandered the chance to see you off, when so many others would have leapt at it.

Prisoners doing long stretches often face deep psychological and social isolation. Years away from family can mean missing key milestones, children growing up, parents aging, relationships ending. The world outside doesn’t wait.

I acquired a brain injury from a motorcycle accident I had when I was 20. I hit a tree pretty hard, and I split the motorbike helmet into two pieces and knocked myself out. I ended up in Brisbane hospital, and they said I had a shade over one side of my brain and that I had a minor brain injury.

Despite all their challenges, they walk into the classroom, shake my hand, and tell me riddles or stories about their mum or their little brother.

My brain seems to simply have wiped out part of my memory. I think it’s for the best.