The people have had pain. I have to feel pain to know their pain was real. My pain is real because I experience the suffering I am in. I fight until I have no more pain. I fight for freedom taken by the injustice of the oppressor.

It’s raining out. I don’t need my umbrella. I hardly care about getting wet I’m driving to the store in my neighborhood, Centreville. Pale sun is shining through above a bleak cover of overcast clouds. I get a box of chocolates and blunts.