Dad pouring cornflakes into jar, somehow related to grandpa Ralph’s legacy of stocking up on food stuffs.

In juvenile detention, I realized I had been there for a year and not known I was incarcerated. Climbing and flying around the space.

The guard took me out to lunch with Bea. He had ordered for us. A plate of flatbread made out of fat that could be used to eat curry etc. He handed me a little pastry with red filling coming out and asked if he could lick the bottom. I asked what kind of fat the flatbread was made from and he said “human.”

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