Pov your can opener broke

Shrimp sambal, reconstituted milk, and fried noodles bubble away in a pot, filling the air with the aroma of laksa, Singapore’s beloved noodle soup. For the cooks working in careful silence, the smell is a reminder of life outside of the prison they are stuck in, and it is hard-won: To make the dish, one man lit a flame on a candle made of his T-shirt and a melted-down food tray; another purchased the can of sambal from the commissary before scraping it open against the concrete wall; while yet another sacrificed the noodles of his paltry prison lunch.

In 1970s and 1980s Singapore, scenes like this abounded in men’s prisons and Drug Rehabilitation Centers (DRCs). Behind guards’ backs, many men smuggled ingredients to secretly cook in their barracks on makeshift stoves during kitchen jam sessions that were so common they had their own nickname: masak, which means “to cook” in Malay.

I had to replace a smartphone battery, but I didn't have the right tools, so I used kitchen knives and a glasses screwdriver

Escaping Handcuffs