F-stop

Splendour of snow blown sideways through the penitentiary yard, plastering the brown scissor-blade legs of cattails in the ditch, filling keyholes & every available crack, razor-wire softening into white ropes

when the bang of an unfastened corncrib door brings everyone — the guards & the guarded — to a full stop. This was once an ordinary farm with ordinary livestock. Ghostly pigeons arrive from a blurred-out depth of field.