It was on Wednesday when everything began to unravel, when the need to survive in those streets was no longer required, nevertheless and much to his own chagrin, found himself nostalgic about leaving them.  Forces independent of his will had worked against and turned him into the object upon which release was found for frustration of a life wasted and exacerbated by alcohol; blows, kicks, and belts lashes descended just about every night.  But one rainy night tired of the injustice once the brute began beating him, instead of cowering down stood up to the bastard and while yelling “no, no more, you won’t ever hit me again”, pushed his drunk ass against the wall and ran out of the house.

Those streets were home for years, amidst cold, hunger, violence, death, desperation…so many feelings,