These are the hours that remain before house arrest becomes a prison arrest for a young 34-year-old Roman who has spent about half his life in prison for “minimal” crimes. Mirko sends me a message via Messenger in which he asks me to share his story. In this very short time I try to piece together a life where through his photographs attached to the walls of the house I can still see him as a child in his mother’s arms, that mother who is also young, as is his father, both drug addicts. His is a cry of pain, an environment that has not protected him, absent social workers, but above all from drug addiction. These 72 hours are full of pain, so much so that he has to resort to asking to be able to return to prison because that is his natural daily life. In his folder of photographs there is his entire imaginary life made of holidays in the tropics, building a false image of himself behind images of iconic beaches to hide his pain.