Pardon my penmanship - there is no table in the cell. Newspapers lie on the floor under our 'tablecloth'. No one cares about passing packages to my inmates, so there is a lot of place on the 'table', They give us sugar, I had my own tea, powdered milk, garlic, coffee (which we're out of already) as well. But this is all 'mine'.
People sentenced to long-term coexistence in small, closed spaces should minimize the differences and complement each other - one should bring something he owns to the community. Generally, this is a valuable lesson and you can't learn it extramurally. You need to see and live it for yourself and store every experience to use it later on.
My inmates say that a departure (expected for tomorrow) is announced at midnight here. An interesting tradition. Well, I'm not going to wait for it that long - they'll wake me up if it's true.