บท 115: The street I once called home

My root isn't Stone Ridge where I grew up. My root is the streets. The place that sheltered me when I had no place to call home. Its horrors and tragedies became my daily battle of survival

It was there April Jackson the painter who sold her paintings for millions was born.

So going back to my root is going back to the streets, the nightmare I escaped.

After Kayden and I spend quality time eating Pizza. I decided to go for a ride afterward.

I stared at the dark streets of Midtown, Manhattan through the window of my car as Johnson drives slowly by.

After my grandmother died. I left Stone Ridge and came to New York to start a new life. I ended up living on the street of Midtown, Manhattan where I lay in its cold dark alleys.

For the very first time since I left the street of Midtown, Manhattan I am returning.