There is always noise. The flushing of the toilet, the running of a shower, boisterous laughter from a group of two or more here and there. There is always noise. Never silence. I suppose that could be the thing I miss the most. Others say they miss life…and people…and activities. And perhaps it makes me the odd woman out, but I myself miss the lack of such things. My days are full to bursting with so much life and energy coming from so many of my incarcerated peers; I often crave the now disappearing memory of the quiet nothingness that being alone can bring. For here in this place, it is never quiet.