Last week, when they first published my story, I thought I was taking my last breath — but, somehow, my diaphragm just kept on going.
The next day, when someone started taking pictures of me, it was early morning and I really wasn’t in any mood. Then, the photographer told me that life is like that. Every day is a sunset. Some days it’s a lovely sunset, some days pretty dull — but, there’s always a sunrise. Even if the clouds obscure it, the sun rises.
I suddenly felt some hope, and taking my last breath wasn’t the only thing I could think about. This ain’t no kind of life for a shopping cart, but things could be worse, I suppose. I mean, I could have ended up in the Gowanus Canal, instead of near Caesar’s Bay or whatever place this is.