The last communist I knew was my professor, an Italian from Calabria, who invited us
over for chess. He gulped wine and crawled around his kitchen floor.
Sometimes creativity moves through you in the strangest times and places. In the middle of the night, waking you from a vision of a dream, you open to the page and words fall out of you. In a soul-destroying meeting, you look down, and your pen has drawn an intriguing creation. Or on an ...
When I first stepped into the county jail, I knew his pain, so I share his message on behalf of all the unknown people behind the inmate statistics data.