I spend part of my night moving into the abandoned house that Captain Isaías offered me. After that, I lose another hour killing an endless number of cockroaches.

Today is Saturday, the 28th of August, and it is the last day that I will photograph the Caldron. As I enter, I walk in the direction of the prison general store to wait for Paulinho. By the door, there is an altar with the statue of Nossa Senhora Aparecida, the National Patroness of Brazil, who is there to protect and bring success to the business. The little market is called Cooperative C.V.R.L., in respect to Bagulhão.

Managed by the C.V., the store is run without a government licence. Given the circumstances, I am impressed with its size and organization. Somebody tells me that this market is the only one of this magnitude inside a prison. It has a rich variety of products. On the right wall, there are three long lists, with the names of more than 100 items written in alphabetic order. When I look at the shelves, I realize that an inmate inside the Caldron could need things that I would never imagine. I see products like spices, sweets, biscuits, deodorant, tooth paste, shampoo, lighters, batteries, disinfectant, birthday candles... and more curious things like maxi pads and seven day candles used for special prayers.

In the right corner, there are several rows of toilet paper on display. I wonder if the government supplies such necessities.

The shopkeeper opens the refrigerator and hands me a soft drink. He won't accept my money, and further more, insists that I try a slice of pizza that he has made. It is a simple dough, with tomato sauce and cheese, but very nicely spiced. While I am eating the pizza, a prisoner by my side tells me about the ex-manager. "The son of a bitch used to sell on credit to those who had short money. Because of the high inflation they had to have double the money when they were ready to pay the bill. Those poor wretches could never finish their debts and had to subject themselves, like 'robots', and carry out any orders given by the most powerful ones.", remembers the man leaning on the balcony.

Paulinho arrives ready for a long day. This morning he wants to show me the patio area. In the afternoon, his guests are going to arrive and, at night, the commemoration for Father's Day will begin. We leave the store and walk through a part of the corridor where the prisoners are permitted to spend time with their visitors. Happily, Paulinho pulls me along to display the room that was specially renovated for he and his guests.

On the door of this room, like most of the others, the initials C.V.R.L. have been painted meticulously. Paulinho takes the key from his pocket and opens the cell as if he is going to show me an apartment that he has just purchased. I am impressed with the fresh look of the place. On one of the walls, there is an enormous cartoon character drawn just like those on the patio walls. The little cell, although it measures no more than five feet by nine, has a double bunk bed built of concrete and, separated by a curtain, a toilet installed next to a pipe on the wall that provides water for cold showers.

Paulinho lists for me all of the people who are supposed to arrive. "My mother, my girlfriend, my girlfriend's daughter and granddaughter, two friends and two more kids." Amazed with the number of people expected, I wonder where everybody is going to sleep. Before I can ask, Paulinho invites me to also spend the night inside the prison, sleeping with them together in the room. "It will be very nice, please, everybody is going to enjoy it.", he insists. I think that he is joking, but he is serious. I am touched by his invitation and I almost accept. I conclude, however, that it is better to only thank him.