When I was only two months old, a speeding car crushed my mom and three siblings. I never had a father, to begin with. Obviously, there must have been a male that helped my mom conceive. His participation, however, ended just there. Just like that, I had no family. Those two months that I had spent in the warm embrace of my family were no less than a paradise. We did not have a house. So, my mom used to search for shelter every day. There were good days and bad days. Our definition of a good day was finding leftover food under the protection of a tree or tin-shade or a bridge somewhere. A day spent under the burning hot sun with no shade and no rejected food was marked as a bad day.