Max Wightman

If Tomorrow Was Yesterday

The sun beaming through the barred window always wakes me up in the morning. Today was no different, the camp only provides us with one uniform made of dense cloth ill fit for the desert sun. It doesn’t matter, I don’t sleep well in this cage and neither does anyone else I share it with. I like to blame the heat, but I just say that to avoid talking about what’s really keeping me awake at night.