I daresay that for most people in this day and age, physical letters have become quite the antiquated method of communication. I know that prior to my own incarceration, it was definitely true of myself.
With the internet there to provide instant gratification and feedback for any minor thought, the ever-cascading dialogue of chatrooms and forums filled with random individuals, interaction was unlimited and immediate.
That tap runs dry the second you pass through these gates. The price of a simple postage stamp has become far more relevant to me than a mobile data allowance ever was.
Few on the outside would truly understand the horror of receiving a letter back marked “RTS”, as you reflect on the dollar or two wasted on your failed attempt to send out a distress signal from this socially isolated wasteland.
Thank you greatly for publishing my letter in your October issue, as it not only gave me an outlet for personal expression, but also opened up lines of communication from other inmates.
I received many inter-prison letters from people I hadn’t shared a unit/prison with for many years. They wrote of connecting with many of the points I had made, and shared in turn how they felt about the direction of their lives and the decisions they’d made along the way.
It was also a nice surprise to read a letter from a reader named Ruby, who was kind enough to reference my letter (and others) and extend their thanks and support. For those of us in this journey, separate yet together, thank you in return for considering our words.
I daresay that for most people in this day and age, physical letters have become quite the antiquated method of communication. I know that prior to my own incarceration, it was definitely true of myself.
With the internet there to provide instant gratification and feedback for any minor thought, the ever-cascading dialogue of chatrooms and forums filled with random individuals, interaction was unlimited and immediate.
That tap runs dry the second you pass through these gates. The price of a simple postage stamp has become far more relevant to me than a mobile data allowance ever was.
Few on the outside would truly understand the horror of receiving a letter back marked “RTS”, as you reflect on the dollar or two wasted on your failed attempt to send out a distress signal from this socially isolated wasteland.
Thank you greatly for publishing my letter in your October issue, as it not only gave me an outlet for personal expression, but also opened up lines of communication from other inmates.
I received many inter-prison letters from people I hadn’t shared a unit/prison with for many years. They wrote of connecting with many of the points I had made, and shared in turn how they felt about the direction of their lives and the decisions they’d made along the way.
It was also a nice surprise to read a letter from a reader named Ruby, who was kind enough to reference my letter (and others) and extend their thanks and support. For those of us in this journey, separate yet together, thank you in return for considering our words.
Your contributions are the centerpiece of the paper. If you would like to contribute to our Letters section, please send your letters to the below postal address:
Or via email:
When I paint, I'm not in prison anymore. I'm lost for hours in my artwork.
I’d think there are a lot of inmates looking for someone to talk to, for some people it might help with the healing process.
Since having my first ever grandson nearly 3 years ago now, it’s made me realise that I not only want to change, but I need to do it not only for myself but for my family.
My name is Jean. I am a wiry spitfire, 65 years young, and incarcerated for the past 24 years with a L.W.O.P. (Life Without Parole) sentence.
Help keep the momentum going. All donations are tax deductible and will be vital in providing an essential resource for people in prison and their loved ones.
Help us get About Time off the ground. All donations are tax deductible and will be vital in providing an essential resource for people in prison and their loved ones.
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