Are you currently standing at the precipice of a significant turn in your life, similar to the point faced by our topic of this piece? Navigating the uncharted waters of a life-changing event can be daunting. Just as you begin adjusting to your new normal, you may find yourself yanked back into an all-too-familiar past that you thought you had left behind. Today, our journey takes us into a similar change, a road less traveled. Today, that journey brings us to Her Majesty's Prison Wandsworth, or as it's commonly known, HMP Wandsworth. 

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"Recalled to prison, off to HMP Wandsworth I go for the next chapter in my life."

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HMP Wandsworth, a name that reverberates with an uneasy blend of nostalgia, grit, and an anticipation of decoded new experiences. Stripped away off our prior freedom, all leads us to what seems like a singular road destined to this infamous locale. The guide to survival, the reins of adaptability, and the spirit of endurance, from this point on, we'll embark on a journey seeking deeper insights. But remember, every life change is a story that needs to be told. Stay with me, as we turn the page to this new chapter.

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My experience on parole was far from ideal, feeling constantly unsupported by probation who seemingly weren't advocating for me. Probation's objective is to aid your challenges and bolster your likelihood of sustaining autonomy within the community. Besides this, they held me to weekly appointments throughout the entire span of six months I was out. I found the terms of my parole excessively stringent, even to the point of requiring approval to pursue a relationship. And that begs the question - with which of my self-declared victims was I involved?

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From the start, interactions with the Job Centre Plus posed numerous challenges. Based on my understanding and the details outlined on the government's website, I was under the impression that I was eligible for a cost-of-living payment for November 2022, which never arrived. This payment was allegedly guaranteed to those who claimed a qualifying benefit in September 2022, including Universal Credit. Now, I must note that I claimed Universal Credit for the entirety of September 2022. However, the Job Centre Plus refused to acknowledge it on the grounds that I didn't actually receive any payment during that month, due to their arrears procedure. It raises a question - isn't someone who's been claiming Universal Credit since August 2022 also struggling with the cost of living by November?

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The meager sum that Universal Credit provides barely scratches the surface of my financial needs. Indeed, after the deduction of arrears and claim-based loans, I find myself with a scant £250 each month. This modest amount is supposed to cover council tax, BBC licensing, utility bills such as gas and electricity, water rates and sewerage, not to mention essential groceries and optional expenditures like mobile services, Wi-Fi, and various subscriptions. In light of the escalating cost-of-living crisis, it's abundantly clear that my Universal Credit would barely stretch to meet my utility bill — a scenario that is far from ideal.

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Remarkably, I'm currently privileged to obtain high-grade care and optimal mobility as part of a PIP scheme. This grants me around £600 a month currently — intended exclusively for disability-related costs, not for the mundanity of living expenses. Though I'm surviving, it's important to remember this PIP payment wasn't designed to serve as my primary source of income. Under its current design, Universal Credit falls drastically short. It systematically provides you with less than the bare minimum needed to make ends meet, thereby compelling you into employment — irrespective of your suitability for the task.

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As things at the Job Centre grew increasingly complex and confusing, I found myself facing a wall of silence. In spite of my earnest attempts to seek clarification, my questions were steadily overlooked. I was hoping for my probation officer to stand up for me, but that support was nowhere to be found. With growing frustration, I vented my feelings through the Job Centre's online journal. If my simple queries were being ignored, I thought naïvely, maybe they'd pay attention to my vengefull tones. Their response was swift and threatening, filled with legal warnings, but by that point my frustration had grown into apathy. I even begun to believe that my life would improve in jail. Even though I was aware of the consequences, my verbal attacks continued undeterred. Until, finally, they reported my behavior to probation. During a scheduled visit, I was accosted and deceived into believing that I was merely being warned. On the contrary, the consequences were much more severe. A few days later, the police showed up at my doorstep, ready to recall me to prison.

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After being brought to Fresh Wharf Police station, it was already the afternoon. You certainly wouldn't want to find yourself locked out of the prison and forced to endure a night in a restrictive police cell. Luckily, I was put on a bus later that day. The destination? It was HMP Wandsworth, an institution known for welcoming check-ins up till 10 p.m., notably later than any other prison facilities I'm aware of. Earlier, in the police cell, frustration led me to quite literally bang my head against the wall, leaving a noticeable bump on my forehead.

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As I first set foot in Wandsworth, its resemblance to Pentonville, another age-old Victorian style prison, was striking. The culinary landscape seemed noticeably underwhelming, especially when compared to Brixton -- the exception when it came to sustenance. Despite the lengthy and drawn-out admission protocol, I managed to get placed into the high-risk category. This secured me a single cell during my stay here.

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I arrive at E-wing, the introductory wing, and immediately I'm faced with a hurdle. I didn't bring any contact information, and the only person aware of my incarceration is my lodger, who lacks the necessary details to reach my family. I felt a knot in my stomach, not knowing how to disclose my whereabouts to my family or set up funds for the canteen. My knack for vapes was a towering issue as well, granted the welcome pack provided only six caps and a pen charger. The decision was made swiftly that I had to quit cold turkey - a notion I accepted without much of a fuss. On my fourth day without a vape, I felt like I was on edge, starkly aware that I simply couldn't obtain any more. That's when I discovered a lifeline; those who'd been out of jail for 6 months but were within the first four weeks of a new sentence could access nicotine replacement therapy. I took swift action, conducted my research, and ended up receiving patches and lozenges. 

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After a few weeks in Wandsworth, my old mate Marv from HMP Brixton joined me, a notoriously resourceful character known for skirting the system. His special knack for sourcing little luxuries made things easier, garnering items like herbal tea bags from the staff room. His ability to find simple pleasures such as coffee, sugar, and even vapes brought a sense of comfort. His arrival was a refreshing familiarity and overall, I was finding my footing in Wandsworth. However, my living quarters on the induction wing certainly left room for improvement. Many amenities were in a state of disrepair, including a temperamental toilet. The cell was adorned with graffiti, and a prevailing unfresh odor lingered in the air. But, let's remember where we are - and prison, by design, will never be a luxury hotel.

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You might not be privy to his actual name, just like we didn't; everyone simply referred to him as Marv. The resemblance he bore to Marv—the quirky, recognizable 'wet bandit' from the Home Alone series—was uncanny. Although he wasn't exactly fond of this comparison, it became one of those instances where, once pointed out, it was impossible to overlook the likeness.

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A couple of weeks into my tenure at Wandsworth, an epiphany occurred — a phone number popped into my mind. I believed it could be my Mom's, but I wasn't completely sure whether the digits were accurate. However, I took the plunge and entered it into the system, dialing it with a feeling of trepidation. The sound of the ringing was a positive leap, and to my relief, my Mom answered. It's never easy breaking the news that you're in jail to loved ones. When I laid out the situation to my Mom, her emotions mirrored mine — a mix of annoyance and disappointment directed at the system. In the blink of an eye, she ensured my account had enough funds for canteen, and I arranged for a cash drop on the wing to procure vapes, thereby enabling myself to cease reliance on NRT.

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When my brother Adam took over rent collection from my Ukrainian lodger, she voiced her concerns about the Wi-Fi potentially being cut off - it was her lifeline to her family back home. We worked to ensure that she would never have to worry about late payments interrupting her connection. She is an exceptional tenant. Even though she could have distanced herself after my arrest, she never passed judgment.

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The fifth week on the induction wing sails by smoothly, thanks to my buddy Marv's presence. Being locked up in a malfunctioning cell doesn't phase me as much as the prison authorities might've hoped. Suddenly, at one in the morning, I get a wake-up call—my cell door swings open, and I'm instructed to pack up. I'm heading to Trinity, a notably more relaxed and comfortable part of Wandsworth. I perceive it as a win. My nighttime move is, conveniently, due to late check-ins at reception. Evicting me from my current cell means they could accommodate two more inmates there. 

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Once I arrived at Trinity, they directed me to an underground cell in the basement. This place was noticeably not up to par. The Toilet was malfunctioning, there were no tea-making amenities, no working TV, and even the phone was absent. It was a scenario you would hardly consider liveable. In no time, I began to protest, voicing my dissatisfaction over the cell bell calling system. One of the guards dishearteningly asserted that my concerns couldn't be addressed that evening, advising me to rest and promising a cell change by the next day. Dawn arrived, and I promptly reminded them of my grievances, detailing the reasons that made the cell unsuitable for habitation. They didn't grant a cell change this time either; instead, they provided the missing amenities and gave a commitment that the faulty toilet would be repaired that day.

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As the day wore on, the urging call of nature was just impossible to ignore despite my prior knowledge of the inoperative state of the toilet. Try as I might, I finally yielded. What ensued was a horrid bout of diarrhea, the likes of which I had never experienced before, causing an unsightly mess at the back of the basin. Without the ability to flush, the offensive odor hanging in the air was simply unbearable.

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My cell becomes a symphony of strange sounds after sundown, leaving me wondering - what on earth could that be? My curiosities drive me to the window, where I get an upfront view of a battalion of rats marching in and out via a small opening by the external part of my cell window. HMP Wandsworth it seems, has an unexpected and unnoticed rat issue, now, strikingly obvious and omnipresent.

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The subsequent day, I found myself yearning for a change of cell due to an issue with rodent infestation. With the troubling predicament of a nonfunctional toilet, I saw an opportunity to make my case. I decided to press the buzzer and was met by an officer who, unfortunately, showed little understanding of my situation while demonstrating a prompt dismissal of my complaints. This lack of empathy stirred a wave of frustration within me, leading me to utter racial words I'm not proud of, piquing his anger. Intriguingly, within an hour of this incident, I was earmarked for a cell move. But it should not have come to this. There was no need for me to resort to such an approach, had my initial concerns been addressed promptly and taken seriously. Let me emphasize that I don't commend such language. However, in this particular circumstance, I admit it facilitated my aim - escaping the current unpleasant conditions.

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Now, I find myself in a different section of Trinity, but things haven't changed much—my cell's toilet is still broken. The frustration led to a restless night, and I ended up harming myself pretty badly. Blood smeared the floor, and the pain in both my arms was unsurpassed. Morning arrived along with the staff, who tried to intervene in my predicament, but I initially resisted their help. I kept getting assigned to compromised cells which, to me, felt like deliberate mistreatment given my high-risk status. I voiced my concern, challenging their perceived propensity to assign broken cells to people like me simply because we were deemed a higher risk. However, to my disbelief, I found out that this was not targeted mistreatment. The prison was just grappling with severe maintenance issues, resulting in a significant number of defective cells.

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I was penalized for using racially offensive language, to which I simply admitted guilt and was subsequently deprived of my canteen privileges for an entire month. The highlight, however, was that due to a system oversight, I kept receiving my canteen benefits.

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After an agonizing wait, the toilet was finally repaired, dispensing with the need for the makeshift solution—a bucket. I dutifully served out my sentence, and roughly two months into my time at Wandsworth, my name was called. My transfer to HMP Highpoint was imminent.

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What is racism? It's a question we hear frequently, but do we really understand what it is? And how it affects individuals and communities on such a deep and devastating level? Racism, to put it plainly, is employing language, actions or, at times, violence against an individual, primarily fueled by their genetic heritage. But it goes much deeper than that, and its consequences are far-reaching and often tragically enduring. 

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Racism is more than just hate; it is an institution that destroys individuals, corrosions the unity of humanity, and instigates vicious cycles of hatred.

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As we delve deeper into this profound and complex subject, we'll seek to unveil how it tarnishes the enterprise of humanity and breeds cycles of animosity and discrimination. For its victims, racism can be utterly soul-ripping, propelling them into a chain reaction of relentless hatred that can span generations. Stay with me as I shed light on this pertinent issue, which urgently calls for understanding, action, and, most importantly, change. Understandably, it's a difficult topic. It's uncomfortable and painful, yet incredibly vital for us to address. Ignoring racism won't make it disappear, rather, it empowers it. 

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Identifying what racism is goes beyond the vulgar use of language, harmful actions or physically violent behavior. It is inherent when a person or group is systematically discriminated against, scorned, or dismissed simply because of their inherited DNA blueprint. It creeps into every corner of our societies, affecting all facets of life from education to employment, housing to healthcare. 

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What's worse is that racism perpetuates a damaging cycle of hatred. Once seared into the soul, the pain and humiliation can often give birth to a new generation of bias, prejudice, and animatism. It's not merely an isolated incident but rather, a self-sustaining cycle that burgeons with each successive generation in a chain reaction of intolerance. This is why each one of us has a role to play in challenging and dismantling these destructive patterns. 

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When we talk about the impact of racism on humanity's progress, we are pointing to a scar that hinders our collective advancement. Through its divisive nature, it dampens our potential for unity, collaboration, and shared success. Each act of racism, in its own way, chips away at the essence of our shared humanity. 

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Let's face it, understanding racism—in all its forms and effects—is the first step towards its elimination. Your commitment to learning about this distressing issue is a catalyst for change. By acknowledging its existence, scrutinizing its effects, and standing against it in solidarity, we can pave the way for a more inclusive, fair, and equal society.

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Just as Martin Luther King Jr's powerful words once echoed throughout the United States, let us raise our voices high and clear in the sight of on theerous beast that is racism. Like a searing beacon in the darkness that envelopes us, let us project our message forth into a world fraught with prejudice. Let freedom ring from every corner of our once-muffled voices. 

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Imagine, dear reader, standing squarely in the face of this adversity, braced against the winds of intolerance, resolute in your persistence, that "you judge a person not by the color of their skin, but by the content of their character!" A powerful reminder, piercing the shadows of ignorance. 

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Yes, racism continues to endure, a haunting specter overshadowing the quest for equality. It's heartbreaking, it's unsettling, it's soul-wrenching. And yet, we stand strong; for it is only through steadfast endurance can we liberate ourselves from this loathsome affliction. 

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Just recall how Martin Luther King once said, "Darkness cannot drive out darkness; only light can. Hate cannot drive out hate; only love can." And so we love, stronger than ever before, audacious in the face of the storm. 

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I acknowledge, dear reader, the harm that's already been inflicted and the systemic chains that yet bind. However, we stand here today, united in purpose, fueled by hope, and bound by a shared commitment to eradicate this ill from the core of our beings and the heart of our society. 

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Together we march towards a horizon where the color of one's skin is neither a curse nor privilege, but a celebration of our shared human condition. A horizon where racism is but a chapter in our history, a stark reminder of where we've been, and where we shall never return.

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Solving the problem of racism isn't a task suited to the efforts of just a few individuals. Rather, it requires a collective global commitment. Let's explore together some steps that we can all take to wipe out this destructive societal ill. 

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Education stands at the forefront of our battle against racism. By expanding our knowledge of different cultures, religions, and races, we foster understanding and empathy, which in turn eliminate hate and prejudice. Educational institutions should also play their part by introducing an inclusive curriculum promoting racial and cultural diversity. 

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Secondly, dialogue and discourse are two more potent tools at our disposal. Engage in conversations about racism, even when they are difficult and challenging. Confronting the presence of racism and discussing its implications can lead to a better comprehension and deeper awareness of its damaging effects. 

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Next, we must also encourage legislation that promotes racial equality and penalizes racial discrimination. Such laws act as a deterrent while ensuring victims of racism have redressal and justice. 

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But laws on paper are not enough. They must be backed by a strong judicial system that does not fear to punish the wrongdoers, irrespective of their social standing or influence. A judiciary that upholds the law of the land without bias is indeed a powerful antidote against racism. 

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Lastly, remember that racism is often deeply ingrained in our societal fabric. As such, we must be unhesitatingly ready to challenge our own biases as well as those of the people around us. This self-reflection and willingness to change mark the crucial first step each one of us can take in our personal journey towards a world free from racism. 

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By harnessing the power of education, dialogue, legislation, a just judiciary, and self-awareness, we can forge a path towards a future where racism is relegated to the pages of a history book, never to reappear in the chapters of our lives.

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Let's embark on the journey of dismantling racism together, starting with self-reflection. Apologies may seem redundant, but they are necessary. I'm not above reproach – I confess that, on more than one occasion, I have used racially insensitive language. These instances, however, were in pursuit of an adverse reaction rather than born out of true discriminatory beliefs. Labeling me as a racist serves no purpose. Instead, let me demonstrate the sincerity and love in my heart, and prove that I am not inherently prejudiced.

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Laying the foundation, let's explore the true essence of racism. Racism, in its most crudest form, is a blatant misuse of language, actions, or in extreme instances, involving violence targeted at a person solely based on their genetic lineage. This destructive conduct unravels the very fabric of our collective human spirit and diminishes our strides towards a harmonious co-existence. 

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Now, consider the victims. These individuals, reduced to mere targets of unjustified hate, grapple with a devastation that cuts deep into their psyche. It's as if a piece of their soul crumbles with every act of racism they endure. The emotional scars inflicted can often perpetuate cycles of hatred and resentment, resulting in an unending loop that only serves to heighten tensions and widen the schism. 

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This, my friend, is the dark abyss of racism. But it's not an unconquerable monster. With dedication to self-education and empathy, it is virtually possible for us to disentangle ourselves from this vicious cycle, initiating a ripple of positive changes in our societies. We can unlearn the biases and prejudices that breed racism and consign them to the annals of history, where they rightly belong. 

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Let's consciously choose love over hatred and compassion over judgement as we strive for a world more welcoming, understanding, and kinder to all humans alike, irrespective of their genetic heritage.

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Imagine walking into a room where everyone’s hands are outstretched to greet you, despite your history. Imagine knowing you're stepping into a place where judgment is replaced with understanding, a place filled with compassion that drowns out all negativity. Wouldn't that be a world we'd all love to inhabit? 

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It is in confluence with universal laws that we all make mistakes, and undoubtedly, retribution serves its purpose. Yet, it is equally imperative to remember, we are beings of limitless potential for change and transformation. You, too, can take the reins of your life, initiating a journey of metamorphosis, regardless of the detours in your past. 

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There’s a subtle beauty in taking the wheel of transformation, embracing growth, and navigating towards a better version of oneself. It's a narrative shaped not by circumstances, but by choice and resilience. Change is never easy, but it's compelling, rewarding, and above all, perfectly achievable. So, off to HMP Highpoint I go, equipped with this newfound perspective and, most importantly, fortified with the belief that I can shape a brighter future for myself.

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Forgive me, the first step of many.

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Drifting Souls by Michael Ezare Barrett

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Whispers of history, etched in the past,
Wounds unhealed, shadows long cast.
Eyes that judge from a distance, afar,
Heartbreak seen in the deepest scar. 

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A color, a creed, the root of divide,
Unspoken rules that force us to hide.
Dreams deferred, opportunities missed,
A world painted in prejudice's mist. 

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But look closer, see the same heart,
Rhythms and beats not far apart.
Unity in diversity, strength in each face,
Together we weave a more vibrant place. 

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So rise, with voices clear and true,
For a future that's bright, for me and for you.
In the tapestry of life, every thread must belong,
Only then can we sing equality's song.