Behind the bars of a prison in Brazil, the federal agent on duty sidled up to me.
“You’re getting a good report, yes?” he said, smiling at my notebook.
“You have many supermaxes in America. Many trips there to make this one.” He gestured toward the barbed wire, offering scant details about just how many trips and precisely when they transpired. “And now you are come to see ours. Funny.”
I didn’t think it was funny.