✅Life Stories: Homeless, Hopeless, and Heavenless in the City of the Angeles

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rfect climate year round. Not too hot, not too cold, always perfectly cool!</p><p id="9272">Now, my heart is bleeding of sadness, for we grew up together. I could have been him. Instead, I learned to cultivate a love of books, ironically, in Spanish, for I love Magical Realism of Latin America.</p><p id="5947">Both our mothers, sisters to each other, were sex workers. Our childhood was hell, but we both survived. I am him, and I miss Ralph. I am crying now, for he was my hero because no one danced like him, and he never saw himself dance. He doesn’t see what my mind movie remembers of him; instead, he was a miracle, a mystical sufi dance master, twirling, and whirling. He was my master teacher, and my mentor who thought my dancing sucked and told me so, smiling. I love him eternally and unconditionally. I told him I would fly him to my home. No. He is home, so he told me. I understand, for I miss the city of angels. Why did you give up on your dreams? Why my cousin? Why?</p><h1 id="7476">✅My Mantra of Love: We Are Each Other</h1><p id="871c">We are the sky. We are the sun! We are the rain, the rain of love, and the purple reign of the Prince of love. Love you! Love you! And I love you!</p><h1 id="72e6">Thank you!</h1><h1 id="ea05">✅Dedicated to the amazing Jim</h1><div id="b17b" class="link-block"> <a href="https://medium.com/@jimwebster1996"> <div> <div> <h2>Jimwebster - Medium</h2> <div><h3>Read writing from Jimwebster on Medium. Hello, I'm Jimmy, living with my lovely wife, sharing witty articles about our…</h3></div> <div><p>medium.com</p></div> </div> <div> <div style="background-image: url(https://miro.readmedium.com/v2/resize:fit:320/0*Ez6WlXbgw5oGQwbu)"></div> </div> </div> </a> </div><h1 id="c0a8">Read this from the Grand Master Jim></h1><div id="2139" class="link-block"> <a href="https://thetaoist.online/disability-homelessness-and-the-kindness-of-strangers-80b9e83ef7de"> <div> <div> <h2>Disability, Homelessness, And The Kindness of Strangers</h2>

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✅Tales of Poverty in a 3rd World Country, America

> Doc Samurai “SunShine” Sam>

My cousin, Ralph, not his real name, is poor, and he never graduated from high school. He gave up on life a long time ago because his mother was a sex worker, he never met his father, and he suffered from poverty. He gave up on his dreams, but he was the most amazing street dancer I ever saw. When you watch Michael Jackson, some of those moves are the moves Ralph invented, because Michael hired LA street dancers to teach him new performance moves. One of the street artists/dancers that Michael hired danced on the same streets of Hollywood with my cousin. Indeed, I predicted Michael would become one of the greatest pop icons of all time. People laughed, and later messaged me on facebook and astonishingly admitting that I was right. I have vision, for I see the future.

I too was a street dancer, but I spent most of my high school in the ghetto streets of the barrio of Los Angeles practicing gymnastics, going to the beach, and having a fight club. I didn’t go to school much. No one could beat me in a fight or a dance challenge. However, my cousin could easily beat me in battle dancing. He was that amazing warrior of mindful movements.

Ralph had lived for free in Hawaii, yes free, for his uncle inherited his home from his mom, yet Ralph returned to the city of angels. I too am part Hawaiian, I left too.

We grew up in LA together. He went to Hollywood High. Actually, I visited LA a few weeks ago, and he was ashamed to be homeless, so he would not meet me. He has a free phone from the government and uses the Internet on the streets close to stores with free internet. LA has the perfect climate year round. Not too hot, not too cold, always perfectly cool!

Now, my heart is bleeding of sadness, for we grew up together. I could have been him. Instead, I learned to cultivate a love of books, ironically, in Spanish, for I love Magical Realism of Latin America.

Both our mothers, sisters to each other, were sex workers. Our childhood was hell, but we both survived. I am him, and I miss Ralph. I am crying now, for he was my hero because no one danced like him, and he never saw himself dance. He doesn’t see what my mind movie remembers of him; instead, he was a miracle, a mystical sufi dance master, twirling, and whirling. He was my master teacher, and my mentor who thought my dancing sucked and told me so, smiling. I love him eternally and unconditionally. I told him I would fly him to my home. No. He is home, so he told me. I understand, for I miss the city of angels. Why did you give up on your dreams? Why my cousin? Why?