We wander onto the patio where the prisoners are watching a soccer game. When we cross behind the net, I notice that the goal keeper has Brasil written on the back of his uniform, expressing the great pride that the inmates somehow have through sports for the same country they normally criticize so furiously. Around the patio, except for the soccer ball, I don't see any other equipment for physical activity. Nevertheless, some prisoners are exercising, running, doing push-ups, sit ups, and stretches.

Across from the field, by the left corner of the wall, an enormous hole has been dug for the Caldron's garbage. Inside, together with the vultures, are several dogs that live in the prison, all scratching the dirty mess for a remnant of food.

Further ahead, Paulinho brings me inside a small ruined building, which was once used as the laundry. Its doors and windows are all ripped out and some parts of the walls are demolished. Between some heavy, decrepit and rusted machines, Paulinho shows me a large standing pipe five feet tall. In silence, he points to a path of broken cement that runs towards the prison wall. "This is the mark of an underground excavation that started from inside the tube.", he explains. "Some friends worked hard on it. They would go inside the tube and dig but, when it was only a few feet from the wall, the tunnel was discovered by the guards. This dreamed passage never reached its paradise.", laments Paulinho.

Around the ruins, some prisoners are tranquilly smoking marihuana cigarettes. One of them tells me that, in the Caldron, they "burn" pot daily. "Here the baseado is a monetary unit. It helps us to be close to freedom."

We leave the building and continue to walk around the soccer field. Some prisoners are getting their hair cut. "It seems that everyone wants to look good for the party.", says one of them all smiles. Some believers of the Assemble of God are standing wearing suits and holding their bibles. They sing religious hymns to the beat of an old tambourine. Between songs, one of their members steps forward and screams as loudly as he can, shouting words which they believe are divine. These inmates also tell stories of ex-prisoners who did, or did not, give their heart to God. "Do you remember Pedrinho?", exclaims one of them. After a fast breath, he continues, "Pedrinho did not respect his father! He didn't listen to his mother! He went back to drinking, to smoking, to robbing and back to killing! Last May, his life was taken in a chase of which we all know the story... God gave him the opportunity, but now, his soul is lost in the hell..."

All the inmates in the yard seem to ignore the pleading of the religious people and continue to watch the game. When I pass by the believers, one of them approaches me and asks if he can bless my soul. I consent. The man commands me to bow in front of him and, with his hand, compresses my head with strength. "God save this young man from all of the badness of this life...", he shouts fanatically. When he finishes talking and lets my head go, I feel very relieved, not from the words that blasted my soul, but from the pressure of his hands over my skull. Paulinho, who has been by my side all the time, can not stop from laughing.

We continue walking and pass behind the other goal. Close to the corner of the main building, an entrance leads to a vegetable garden where the inmates also raise a couple of pigs, some chickens and several rabbits. In this reserved area, isolated near the animals, are the solitary cells. One of them has its door open and I enter. Totally empty, the walls of this miniscule cubicle are filthy and full of mold. It is a frightening cold place which becomes completely dark when the door is closed.

A few cells ahead, Paulinho stops in front of a closed door and calls for an inmate. Nobody answers. He persists to call for the prisoner until we hear a murmur coming from inside, something that we can not understand. Paulinho, in a gesture of solidarity, comforts the inmate. "Don't worry, you are going to come out very soon, OK?" He tries to encourage the prisoner but he doesn't get any answer. The prisoner in solitary is the fugitive who was recaptured one day prior.

We return to the patio and I observe some anxious inmates gathering by the door. One man is tacking a list onto a wall while several other men push each other in an attempt to see the paper. This list names those inmates whom have letters to receive. Some of the men go quickly to the entrance door to get their correspondence and soon return to the patio. Alone with their correspondence, they seem to appreciate each one of the written words. I observe that one of them, while reading his letter, leans his head down emotionally in deep thought. Another inmate walks towards his friends to share his news. Meanwhile, the list remains on the wall and some prisoners come back to confirm with more care that nobody has written to them.