By Kat

Outside, right? Before coming to jail, “outside” was sort of a negative thing. Since we’re in Fairbanks, “outside” is brutally cold. “Outside” to me is just a thing I have to cross through to get where I’m really trying to go. Even when I was homeless, “outside” was never anything more than a form of travel. Even the bus got more credit than “outside.” That’s in winter though. “Outside” means much more to me now, even though I’ve only been here a couple of weeks. Now I don’t know how to think about “outside.” It’s both very big and very small. If you love someone inside, they’re probably still a million miles away. If you love someone outside, same thing. And when you’re outside, you drive past the jail. Sometimes everyday…you might remember to notice you’re passing FCC. How weird. Jail is weird.