The sun bid farewell, the light in the window surrounding the slits marked the beginning of a new m for the correal facility. A man, perhaps six feet tall or a bit more, one eye injured from an old brawl, with grayish hair atuating the little that remained on his head, gave a grumpy look around the room. The bright white lights flickered on in strong and deafening white—factory lights, thought Billy, as he tried to turn around to cover himself with the b.

  -Well, you have thirty mio get ready. The dining hall will open, and those who are te will miss breakfast. I hope everyone is ready and lined up by the time I return, zybones, - said the man with a deep voice.

  Walking down the corridor, he pulled back the old gray curtains, which seemed to be full of dust, although they weren't.

  Billy got up; luckily, the bathrooms were separate stalls. The water was cold, almost freezing. Although winter was in season, the warm Los Angeles climate was famous, and the winter wasn't unbearable. The shouts and otion from the showers echoed in cheerful versations. The guard forced them to enter in groups of 10 at most; the surveilnce visual was strong.

  A quick five-minute shower, a long song—Billy sang for a while in a low void could only remember a few songs from his memory. He knew little about music, but he kept some songs from his favorite artists in his heart. In his time, Coldpy had some big hits, Ed Sheeran, and some cssical music balds that he pyed during critical moments of artistispiration on the baly of his small apartment from his old life.

  reat cssics that were alresehe powerful British bands from the 60s that flooded radios, stadiums, and homes. The iic Beatles, the grandiose Queen, the powerful Rolling Stohe Smiths, Pink Floyd, and Radiohead. There are some bands scattered around the world, but nothing like the English, reciate good lyrid proposed rhythms that make up the entire melody.

  It is said that the cultural importahe British give to their music is deeply rooted, and valued with numerous music schools, festivals, and an envirohat be decisive for emerging artists. They often reflect their cultural identity as a try, addressing relevant issues about politid society that establish aional e with listeners. The dynamiviro is indeed a cradle of culture for musis, and even those who nourish themselves in that enviro end up developing a healthy critique of their music.

  However, the Uates doesn't g, especially New York and California, exceptional pces and the birthpce of some quite relevant groups in the history of musi people's memories. Like the smooth Red Hot Chili Peppers, the great Guns N' Roses, the harmonic Eagles, Metallica, and the unfettable Nirvana.

  The dark blue full-body suit saw some young guys who only wore pants, and the top hung at their waists. The rge dining hall had long rows of tables with betached to the tables.

  Breakfast sisted of standard milk cartons, fruits such as apples, es, and pears, bread, and cookies—the typical Ameri breakfast. Billy observed a couple of guys heading towards his table, just like in a prison movie. They sat in front of his spot, eager to exge words and share news about the newer.

  -How's it going, buddy? - said a short white boy around 13 years old, looking somewhat small.

  -This is Benson, Andrew, and yours truly, Silk Hand, - the boy introduced.

  Billy thought the kid was trying to seem cool, so he let it slide. After all, he was on high alert.

  -Billy Carson, - he said while biting into his whole wheat bread. Although he had a more mature mental age, for some reason, his mature focus lost all text in his body. He felt more inexperienced and found it difficult to manage his emotions.

  -Oh, so Billy, why did they send you to the juvenile correal facility? It's so far from the city; I guess you're a pretty strict young man, - said Silk Hand.

  -Property damage, skipping school for five months, and insulting a cop. Ended up spitting in his face when he grabbed my arms, -- Billy expined, almost as if the juvenile judge would determihe case. -- And what brings you all to the prison? - he asked the others.

  -Oh, me, for stealing wallets on buses, - said Silk Hand, dismissing the severity.

  -Benson and Andrew are cousins. They burheir neighbor's car over some dispute, - the boy added.

  -I see, and what's your name? I don't think your father gave you a niame as your real name, - Billy said.

  -Silk Hand, but Austin works too, - the young boy said with a radiant smile.

  -I see! I prefer to use Austin, - said Billy.

  -Look, we're a group of three, the whites in the area. Sometimes the Latino gang has power; they're all Mexis. But don't fet in this neighborhood, the ones who rule are the Afri Ameris. They e from everywhere and are the most dangerous. No one wants to cross them, - Austin expined.

  -There's East High, all from the same school and the most dangerous. It's not for nothing it's called the most dangerous neighborhood in California. Some are guilty of stabbing and more serious crimes. Then there are the Afri Ameris, who are also part of East High, a rge group. They tend to mess with the newers, - Austin tinued.

  -I uand, - said Billy.

  -ting me and these two, there's Scott and the twins, Thomas. We're a small gang in the correal facility, but we have some spa the group. You know, if you follow the group, we'll protect you from the gaings. Some open your locker and steal everything you have. I prevent that, - Austin offered.

  -I'll think about it. Are those over there the Latino gang? - Billy asked.

  -Yep. -

  -And those are the East High gang? -

  -Yes, - Austin replied.

  -Alright, we'll talk ter. I have to go to the director's office to get a feel for things, my friend, - said Billy, heading towards one of the correal officers who was chatting with the cook or an assistant—his white apron and mesh on his head gave it away, but in bad times, you have to move quickly.

  -Good m, sir. I'd like to see the coordinator coordinate my extracurricur activities and weekly sessions with the psychological cil, - Billy said, putting on his best face.

  -You're the new ohe oh issues with public authority. e with me. I'll take you to the coordinator, - said the security guard.

  He nodded. - See you ter, brother. - he said quickly as he opehe emergency door, heading towards the exit, towards the director, psychologist, and administrator of the correal facility.

  The journey was unfortable, with a grumpy guard and a man who postponed his life like that of a youth with a music system.

  -Is this real? - Billy whispered to himself, as if in prayer.

  -You'll have to get used to life in the correal facility, son. A few opportunities lie ahead of you. Don't cause trouble, and be respectful to all guards. If you have any problems, don't hesitate to e and ask. - said the guard.

  -Yes, sir. I'll try to follow the rules. - said Billy.

  -Don't try, just follow them, kid. - gruhe grumpy guard, but he saw a glimpse of kindness, he read on the ag - Samuel.

  The coordinator's office is the same as the psychologist's; the budget is not very acceptable in correal facilities, and some teachers double as guards. The psychologist is the coordinator, and even the prison director is the basketball team's coach.

  -Greetings, young man. - said a man dressed in a suit with a red tie. He was filling out some forms and had a stern look, and his vibrant blue eyes emphasized his furrowed brow.

  -Good m, sir. I'm Billy Carsen; I arrived at the correal facility yesterday afternoon. - said Billy.

  -I was notified, Mr. Carson, but don't stand at the door. e in, take a seat. All your csses are in 2-B; oher hand, you have to choose extracurricur csses. Art, Music, or free periods; it all depends on you. Many choose the free period and go to the yard for sports.- said the man behind the desk.

  -I would like to participate in music csses. - said Billy.

  -Music! That's a good choice. You'll have css every day with Mr. Spencer; he's a very enthusiasti and will be pleased to have a udent. Don't disappoint him. - said the man, with a politi's tone, which disgusted Billy, giving him a feeling of inhospitality in his normal appearance.

  -Well, sir, have a good day. - said Billy, leaving.

  -Of course. -

  -Mark, take this little troublemaker to his . - said the man behind the desk, calling a guard on his walkie-talkie. It took only four minutes for them to arrive; Billy didn't know, but he filed that thought in his head.

  The correal facility was a rge building; a metal mesh surrouhe entire institution, a rge sand yard used as a soccer field, two basketball courts, and a few chairs shaped like bleachers. The sports room was in a small room at the front of the building.

  Csses at the correal facility were poor; oeacher lectured for aire css of perhaps 40 people.

  -Professor Beins, I bring your udent, keep an eye on him; he's a bit unruly. - said Mark.

  Although it seemed like strong words, it was something that was always said; it's just that the kids at the correal facility didn't know how much.

  -e in, here's your notebook and pen. At the end of the css, I'll ask you to returo me. Check well; this notebook has four subjects: English, Mathematics, and History. - said Beins.

  -Thank you. - said Billy.

  -Sit at the front, and everyone else moves one row back. - said Beins.

  I was adjusting the in a sed.

  He saw Austin sitting a feay, but he didn't notice.

  The csses firmed his greatest fear; he was a disaster when it came to trating. This mind had so little disciplihat even paying attention for more than five minutes was impossible. Although he tried, it was very difficult to pay attention to everything the teacher was saying. Ameri history, he knew very little; English wasn't very good, and he could do math, but not as well as he hoped.

  He was starting to hate this body and its limitations!

  -For tomorrow, everyone must pay more attention. Go and have fun. Don't cause unnecessary problems. - said Beins.

  The musid arts was on the rooftop. It sometimes served as an auditorium for celebrating ceremonies. It was a correal facility, and as long as the youths dedicated themselves to three csses, the administrators were satisfied.

  On Fridays, there would be psychology css, fog on good behavior aegrating into society, with the rest split between free periods and sports. Curiously, three days a week included sports css.

  The tall corridor indicated that there was a guard room nearby. He ehe little room and saw a chubby man.

  -Ah, you must be Billy, Superinte Charles mentiohat a udent would join my css. - said Spehe music teacher.

  Its pleasure to meet you all, I'm Billy. - said Billy.

  -Oh yes, this is or, our little wild drummer. The guy over there is Enrique, the guitarist, and Pablo pys the triangle, drums, cymbals, and a bit of flute. - said Spencer.

  -We're a small group, but I'm thankful for a new member of our passionate youth group. - added Spencer.

  Spencer's chubby cheeks aual smile enced him; from afar, he seemed like a friendly person. His good-natured appearance highlighted his cheerful and clumsy demeanor.

  -Tell me, Billy, do you have any specific musical preferences? - asked Spencer.

  -I like Oasis, Nirvana, some cssics here and there. For now, I only say that I sing a bit, but this is my first time actively practig. - said Billy.

  -That's better than nothing. If you allow me, you give us a demonstration? - asked Spencer.

  Billy blushed. - I have no idea what to sing, sir. - he said.

  Spencer adjusted his posture. - In other words, let the music speak for all of us. Let's start with a demonstration, et your drum set ready; we have a sio test. - Spencer said, pulling out his guitar.

  -Do you know the song 'What a Wonderful World'? It's perfect for practig rhythms and timing. It has some difficulty, but I'll hahe harmony with the guitar, and the synthesizer already has a track. - Spencer said in a burst of excitement. It was incredible how this guy could embody a cliché.

  -I know a bit, sir, but... -

  -Not at all, Billy. Pablo, take care of the triangle. - Spencer interrupted.

  -Sir, I was born ready. - Pablo said, jumping with the same enthusiasm as Spencer.

  -Alright, Enrique, you'll be the beat. Remember, slow strokes. - Spencer instructed.

  -I don't know the rhythm well, sir, and I don't know the song from memory. I 't make a good impression on the first try. - Billy admitted.

  -Who cares, Billy! Music is freedom; sing as you please. We'll correct the rest ter. - Spencer said happily.

  -Here, is the sheet musid the lyrics. - Pablo said, handing it to Billy, saving him from a possible misuanding.

  In the distance, or could be seen giving slow beats with his drumsticks at breakneck speeds. Surely, he had a music talent, Billy thought.

  -Alright, here it goes. - His system told him that while singing from the heart, he could reach people's souls. He was going to try his best. This song was rooted in a deep alphabet of sadness and happiness.

  He thought about his past life, his new life, his birth. He walks around the neighborhood with his mother, and trips to the beaches. The beauty of the sky, the first time he cried with joy, his 27th birthday, or his 10th birthday when his mave him a skateboard.

  So many lively moments vivid in the memories of his heart. His eyes welled up, he lowered his head so that no one could see that moment of vulnerability.

  -Here I go. –

  I see trees of green, and red roses tooI see them bloom, for me and youAnd I think to myselfWhat a wonderful world

  I see skies of blue, and clouds of whiteThe bright blessed days, dark sacred nightsAnd I think to myselfWhat a wonderful world

  The colors of the rainbow so pretty in the skyAre also on the faces of people going byI see friends shaking hands sayin' how do you doThey're really sayin' I love you

  I hear babies cry, I watch them growThey'll learn much more than I'll never knowAnd I think to myselfWhat a wonderful worldYes, I think to myselfWhat a wonderful world

  Oh, yes[1]

  The overflowing feelings, like a child being born, and g, that moment, among many. The lost enter of a breathtaking life that is beautiful but we don't distinguish it for that reason, the embroidery of work, material possessions, problems, personal matters... fill our minds and prevent us from seeing the satisfying aspects of life.

  -Well, how was it? - asked Billy.

  -Bro, you're our singer from now on. We don't have another one who represent what you just did, my friend. You join my band, don't feel bad, the triaeals the show, - said Pablo cheerfully.

  Teacher Spencer was jotting down some notes and tinued pying a few chords. - Young Billy, I see a promising future in your performance. You have the charisma of a musi. Let's try it again, or, try to give it a slower octave in the first chords. A slow takeoff, and then we speed up, - he said.

  -Again... -

  Yep. - Spencer said with pleasant eyes.

  [1] What a wonderful world: such a beautiful song, that, there are times when I py it to see the sky or to reflect a little, I hope you listen to it and love it as much as I do.

  ...