I have already written two books of my past life (and my past because today I am another person). But few know what was between, before, and after. 23 years and 3 months, enough time to do everything in this life.
Have you ever waited for someone for an hour? Multiply that by 199584 and you will have the hours I paid during my sentence, I know because in a cell the time to think abounds and the memories, not exactly glorious, they make it a living hell, as vivid as reality itself. With the past on my shoulders and with the eyes of those who have not forgiven me judging me daily. I lived an experience that I do not wish for anyone.
But I am repentant and determined to help build the truth for those who lived the reality of the Medellin of the ’80s and ’90s firsthand, I wake up daily and with the decision to show the scars that make me what I am but do not define what I will be today and tomorrow.