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Chapter 136 - 135: I Was Them
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Chapter 138 - 137: Final Brushstrokes
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... boarded-up church. "But they told me I cared too much. That I lived like the poor."
He looked down at his ragged boots, cracked at the sole.
"I didn’t live like them. I was them."
He used to sleep on straw mats, wearing a threadbare coat through Belgian winters. He gave away his belongings to coal miners and slept in the dirt. Ate crusts of bread dipped in paint water. Once, he wrote a letter saying he hadn’t eaten for two days, but he didn’t mind — the sky had been beau ...
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