One afternoon this last November I was violently cursed by one of the old-guard officers of the Starke/Raiford triangle here at New River "Correctional" Institution East. A small thing, you might say; I'm an inmate, after all. But life is built from small things, tiny freedoms, indentures and conditions to be observed, deserved or not. I'm an inmate, true, but I'm not a dog. She practically attacked me, her vituperations so bitter, I stood dumb struck in the slip stream and said nothing - which was probably a good thing. It's always best to say little or less.