But mostly I think about when I was there as a guest. I remember circling the dorm for hours at a time just to feel movement in my body. I remember standing in line to turn in my laundry and get fresh clothes, a blanket wrapped around my naked body amongst the naked bodies of 59 other inmates.
I remember talking with the African-American man who was in the bunk across from mine. He was a Sufi and a heroin addict. We spent hours discussing addiction and religion and the impulse to find God but only finding a bottle or a needle. He was missing his right leg from some accident many years before that he didn't want to talk about. I can recall being wrapped in my blanket and waiting for my new set of blues, trying as hard as I could to retain a sense of dignity, and him looking at me and smiling. "The Buddha" he said and laughed.
I remember my sponsor's voice on the other end of the telephone line when I called. I remember breaking down crying because I was so grateful that there was someone willing to pick up the phone.