The city does not recognize me, my life is a constant struggle against the city. I am not from here you know, but I am not an outsider either. I make this city a city, because I come here with dreams. You know what happens to cities what are not built on dreams, where thousands troop in everyday in search of a better tomorrow? They die fast or they pass into a catastrophic path of decay. I for one have never been able to decide which is better. But, common, my city is not like that. It welcomed me into its fold, took care of me when I was lost and now I am struggling constantly so as to go up the social chain. But some the city does not recognize me anymore. I can die in a bomb blast, fall from a train or be run over by one of those well-to-do kids ( no no I am not jealous of them) but my beloved city will not care. It was not always like this, somehow I get the feeling that she is angry. I have lost my bearings, I have decided to join the crowd, be one among the millions who make up the numbers of the country ( it is not so bad you know, somebody has got to do that), I have given up my dreams, I have become…. What you see me in front of you right now. And my city has never forgiven me for this. She refuses to recognize me.