When I was homeless, I sort of walked around the city instead of staying in one spot too long. I collected cans and bottles that I could get a little money for, and sometimes I got lucky enough to find something sharp, so I could cut my shaggy hair. On the day it all began, I was walking at night to the spot where I usually slept, but there were a couple teenagers messing around there. They were painting stuff on the wall. I knew I looked pretty scary, and they didn't know I was only a few years older than them, so I started running full speed at them and waving my arms like crazy, shouting incoherencies.

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