The Search for Freedom

i

structures were aligned on both sides of the streets. Some people were sitting calmly on the chairs outside their huge houses while those children wer

ary days, and my father was in high school. Because their families were indigent, they were forced to stop schooling and work instead. But

erything they wanted, such as fancy clothes, and gadgets. I was envious of other people who lived in

hen I was younger, I mistook that stain for an eye, and I was afraid to look at it. My mother was wearing old le

st to get to work early. My father was a farmer who owned a small piece of land

o tell me how much she cared; her pointed nose, brown skin, and lips that never get dry.

ppened to your fo

ell. I knew it was made by those boys who could do nothing in their lives but wait for their victims in the streets. But even though there

bumped myself on

e that," my mother repli

t "we cannot go back in the past and change what we have done wrong. Let us live in the

" I complained, whimpering, and trying to avoid my

mall wound, so stop overa

got inside the house, hung his hat on the pe

My father was the most handsome man in the world, though sometimes he was unkind, somewhat cruel and overpr

ly bumped himself into

with those street boys, because a mark from the pole wasn't the same

that even though he was a hard wall, acting as a column in our house, he still cared ab

know that our son would not fool around; he's already ol

thing wrong; I just came

doing something wrong, we won't show you any

other asked. "He's already big, and soon he'l

o finish your study first before you can have a girlfriend. You're just six

dad, I will help you first before making my own

ngs that you want. As long as you're not hurting

getting stubborn, because you are always lettin

r stood up and exclaimed. "Why are you alwa

ling the truth; I'm hoping that

ealize that whatever you're going to say

nd exclaimed, "Please stop this! If you will fight because of me, maybe i