My Beautiful Oubliette: The Difficulty of Being a Writer in Prison | Literary Hub

My transparent typewriter’s life ended abruptly when I was transferred to Cayuga—a two-hour car ride that took three days in a prison bus. For three days, I was fed nothing but cheese sandwiches and warm apple juice. I lost six pounds. My typewriter was stuffed into a garbage bag and tossed into the luggage hold of the bus. It broke. When I submitted a damage claim to the Department of Corrections and Community Supervision in Albany, they responded that I had no proof that DOCCS employees damaged my typewriter. I guess they require proof on video. I should have known. In prison, you never win, whether you’re right or wrong.


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