When the Wind is Walking

"It was desolation, but intricate desolation-desolation seasoned with spiritual softness amid leafy banks and seamless patchwork. It was not long before Tanner thought that this might be all that anyone-anyone who'd been held eight years to the static regimen of prison life without privacy or dignity, brained by nonstop noise, ass whups, negative hormones, disrespecting homeboys and pathological guards-could ask for.