intro to street

street

urchin

by Casey Colon

         The man lay there on the side streets of New York City, cold and desecrated not by the windward streams of shivers beside his neck but by his hope.  He was eighteen and balding.  His smell was scalding and his clothes were of thrown out blankets.  He trembled as he coughed and writhered as civilians passed by him.  This boy whom should be a man from all of these years still can not cope with the sounds and the stares.  He is as smart as a stray dog, so that is how he will act.  He is a stray.  He is subject to a missing child on accounts of a murder in November of 91'.  While in his crib playing with the stars hanging from his ceiling a loud noise occurs.  The baby does not cry because he is not faltered by noise much in these baby days.  Little Timmy- that was his name, did not fall victim to fear at this point.  He was a brave little toddler, born in 87, nearly outliving his crib space, was growing but still did not know what fear was.  Timmy also did not know of sorrow or nostalgia and as his case now, he never learned.  Tim's parents died on a Saturday night and he lived another day.  No one knows who the culprits are or if this child is even still alive.  Timmy Lance made his way out of the crib and walked out an open door to the backyard and from there he never stopped crawling.  We shall take a closer look at what this boy knows to be his past.