Red Light | Dark Room: Sex, Lives and Stereotypes

I’m desperate for my camera. I thought I’d gotten used to not having it, but the photograph has just been handed to me. A perfectly aligned gift, and I feel sick at not being able to take it with me. Sure, I can use words to describe how her prison issue mullet complimented the blue tracksuit she wore, and the brief imprint her hand left when she pressed it to the thick glass that separated us, but it would speak so much more profoundly as an image.