Book3:WereMyDreamIs
awickerbasketinfrontofthestoreforaake.Itwasjustafter5p.heironsecuritygrillgatewasdownandlockedbyargepadlock.AfterDimitrileftthebakery,businessdeterioratedandwasnolohebusyandpopurpcewherepeoplestoodiobuytheirbreadandpastry.Thebeautieswholivedinthewomen’sdormdoorhadalsodispersed,eachlookingforherowiny.Thewickerbasketwastherebutas,itty.Davidkhatthenewhoboswhohadbeenlaroundthearearetlymusthavegottentoitbeforehim.Hesighed,resigoahungrynightwithoutfoodandwasabouttoleavewhenheheardamusicalvoiearbysaying, “Excusemesir.MayIbotheryouforaminuteofyourtimeandaskyouaquestion?”Davidturowardsthespeakerandwassurprisedtoseeahomelesspersonwearinganoldolive-coloredsafarihat,araggedybrownjacketanddirtybckba