Spice
Am I the one-eyed man in the land of the blind,
Or just a little boy lost, out of sight, out of mind?
If I put my pants on one leg at a time,
Would I be human to you, or just a number without a dime?
I refuse to be defined by where I reside,
I’ve made amends for my crime and set my pride aside.
Whatever the cost of my wrongs, I’ve paid that price,
But what is life with all sugar and no spice?
Every month, a physical envelope arrives at your door, postmarked from San Quentin Village, California. Inside, you will find original artwork, writing, and recipes from real contributors, along with a personal letter from me, Diane Kahn, founder of Humans of San Quentin, about the people who made them. You read it. You keep it.
Every piece comes from someone serving a sentence. Every piece reminds you they are so much more than that.
📬 Join the Mail Club
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