I told my mother of my heart before I left home for the city. In her eyes I don't grow, I still play with dirt. I told her of an award (one which I shall attain someday) that she knows nothing about, but I saw trust in her eyes. I assured her of my safety in my travels, and I heard concern in her voice. I painted for her my visions in an attempt to ease her worries, and I saw love in her eyes. Now, here I am, in a treacherous beautiful city, dreaming, and surviving on...