All days are a never ending series which seem the same, so that I cannot tell the difference from one to the other.
Our existence here at this new death row is so restricted in all manner that there is no event by which one can differentiate the passage of days, weeks or months. It all runs together because it is the same. No worship services on Sundays, no activities except the opportunity to spend 1 hour of each day, 7 days per week, in a bit larger cage a few feet distant from the cell. But there is nothing to do once in the cage, except stand there and talk to the prisoners in the cells. No volleyball, no others to walk and talk with, just one's loneliness and despair to visit with. It truly is a mere "existence," not any form of human life we live here, now.