Notes
Jail, the Prison Service, Gothenburg

From ash you have risen; to ash you will return.

The phoenix burns himself on a pyre from which a new bird, younger and stronger, rises. He lives for five hundred years and then destroys himself in a magnificent ritual. He resurrects to become an even more majestic form.

Floating high in the sky.

His sharp eyes searching the barren landscape of Earth.

His dazzling beauty arousing intense desire and infinite inspiration.

Just like the phoenix, I, and everything I stand for, will rise again.

Everything that Man seeks is here, within me.

These thick concrete walls, the odour of detergents, the filth on the walls, and the flies in the light fixtures.

None of this concerns me.

It only allows me to see the possibilities I never would have imagined in my darkest dreams.

I can move through space and time, outside this shithole, and see everything from above.

This brief moment in captivity is only a heartbeat in the infinite pulse of eternity.

A few months, and then I’ll be back. Stronger. More powerful.

I already long for her.

The faintest whiff of perfume from her skin. The strands of hair that slipped from her braid and curled down her white nape.

Her soft jawline.

The way the corners of her lips twitched when she was flustered. The thunderclouds that gathered in her eyes sometimes.

The tiny yawns she couldn’t manage to suppress. And the amusing way she said ‘Yes, sir!’ without meaning it.

All that sass I never had time to extinguish.

I’ve always been a master at sussing out details, and the details that formed the entirety of her were irresistible. She was so delightfully artless.

I feel my heart beating faster when I think about her.

There is also a nagging rage, something I haven’t come to terms with. But when I do, I will project that pent-up energy onto her. I sink into that thought, and for a moment I find myself in a very dark place.

As if I have fallen into the shadow of something ominous. But then I think of the future that spreads out before me like a dewy, shimmering spider’s web in the morning sun.

Now I hear footsteps. High heels drumming against the concrete floor, coming closer.

I know at once who it is.

Another mortal being who will pass through my eternal life.

Anna-Maria Callini.

Oh, Anna-Maria, you haven’t the foggiest idea about my plans for you.

Soon you will be standing there in the doorway. And I will put on my very best smile.

Let the show begin!