I needed closure to help me live a normal life, but it was not forthcoming. I was reaching out for closure but it never came.

The inevitable monotony of another day decays your precious time, alongside your brain cells as you get trapped listening to those who surround you once again.

It was the sweltering Sydney summer of '79 and AC/DC was the most potent new rock band on earth.

It was me that created the change, I did it all!! Not prison: prison hurt me, prison did not offer healing or reform my behaviour. Prison deployed its violence onto me that I am still working through today.

“Parole approved pending housing.” This is by far the worst sentence I have heard in prison.

It was just another typical day in jail when word arrived. As soon as my name was called and the paper handed to me at morning muster, mixed feelings of surprise and anticipation began welling up inside.

If parole was ever about rehabilitation, it’s not really the feeling I get now. It feels more like an exercise in assessing the risk to the community, not about reintegrating people.

Monday: I've spent the last hour at the wing pool table losing badly to some madman from Amsterdam. I didn't imagine there'd be a pool table in maximum security but the prisoners enforce respect for it.

Even though it looks like Santa has forgotten us this year, we both have some ill-defined, unspoken hope that it will be a better day.

Skip forward a month; a year; and an odd decade (or 5), and I realised that without embracing change in our lives (or how we see things) we only risk relegating ourselves to stagnation.

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