Amidst the poverty, I rise on my chair of imagination, swimming with flippers through the ocean of dreams, and gazing through the window of my heart at the unreachable sky full of hopes, longings, and dreams. I open my eyes again, back to reality, realizing the dream was just a dream. Like the bathtub in front of me, my hope rusts away. Time passes by and day by day, it becomes more brittle, thinner, and fragile.