Every person is a paperback edition of a large and rich book.

Dennis is a volunteer for the International Bureau, probation Service Holland. He visits Dutch citizens who are in prison in Brazil. One client in specific had a difficult time. He is conditional released but faces a lot of problems and difficulties while being outside. In one conversation client spoke about guilt in regards to his family. Dennis decided to write him a letter speaking about the meaning of guilt.

Occasionally, I ask a lot of you, for example, last Thursday when we went exploring the world of health insurance in Brazil, arranging medication for you. What an adventure. I won't forget that day, and I'm glad we were able to laugh too.

We've had many conversations over the years. Recently, you mentioned feeling guilty. You wanted to be successful with a transport and do something positive with it, like a vacation with your family, whom you love dearly. And it ended badly. You spent years in jail, were transferred to an even harder prison, then released to find accommodation in a hotel with damp patches on the walls while waiting for your return home.

And your family is very worried and incurring expenses. I understand what you're saying about guilt. But guilt is perhaps the most useless of all feelings we can experience. The writer Godfried Bomans once said in a conversation: "Every person is a paperback edition of a great and rich book, but we live in the belief that we are the great edition." We hope we can be great or fantastic, but in practice, that usually disappoints.

But let's turn it around and imagine how live could have been if everything in your life had gone fantastic, beyond all expectations. At our first real lunch together, you naturally wore a beautiful blue suit, and the restaurant would have had Michelin stars. A tuxedo would have been an option, too. Because the best version of you, who had an unimaginably successful life, walks around like James Bond. As the best version of yourself, you would have started projects to help people. And you would share your success with all the people you love most. That's how I know you, or I think I know you. And you might even have received recognition for those good works. Who knows! I say this because, as a schoolteacher in the Netherlands, I was paid to discover the qualities in people. And you see empathy for others. But we are, as Godfried Bomans said, the paperback version of the big publication we aspire to be. With all our shortcomings, bad decisions, bad luck, and more. And complaining about what could have been, how much better it could have been, makes us feel guilty towards the people we think we've disappointed. But I often think about the three words my wife says to me most often. No, it's not "love you," but "Para de reclamar." Portuguese for "Stop complaining." I've learned that my wife is generally right. Complaining doesn't help. It's better to count your blessings.

Not all prisoners receive as many letters as you do. And that means you are valuable. The concerns of those people, like your family, aren't what you did wrong, but how they can help you because you are important to them. As a volunteer for the Probation service, I can never do enough. I would have loved to be the very best, most highly decorated volunteer, the one who always does everything right. Unfortunately! I'm not perfect either, but I count my blessings.

I wish you a good life in the Netherlands. You deserve it!

Dennis