Literature
The Year of the Rat, 1: Memoirs of a Streetkid
It took three days and nights to get to New York City by greyhound, three days with hardly a scrap of food to eat and three nights with almost no sleep. All I had in my possession were a few books and odd things, an extra t-shirt and a hundred dollars in cash—all the money I had in the world, and most of which was stuffed into my left boot. I was going to need it to last a long time, because I had no help waiting for me in New York, no family, no friends, no plans, nothing. Everyone else who was on the bus probably had families with apartments, money for hotel rooms, taxi cabs or subway destinations in Brooklyn, Queens, Long Island, Har