He was cold, hungry and desperate, living on the streets. He wasn’t always like this, he used to live at a boys home, which still wasn’t an ideal home for him - but it burned down shorty after he escaped. He was desperate back then though, desperate to feel his parent’s affection. But, he couldn’t, they passed due to a freak accident when he was younger. He would often sit on the sidewalk, sketching into an old, beaten up notebook, reminiscing to parents who walked past with their children. He didn’t like to beg for food or anything, so he would find scraps in bins, or anything he could.
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