I was born into a poor family, living on the streets. I would hit cans like they were drums for money. The most I got a day was 10 dollars. For my 16th birth day, my mom was able to buy me a harmonica. It was plastic and held together by glue. I loved it. Looking back, she probably did it so I'd earn more money. At the time I didn't care. I was finally happy. I played day and night. my earning went from 10 to 30 dollars a day. My mother was proud of me. I made up my own songs, played some from that I heard on the street. One day, a boy around my age came over to me. He gave me a 100 dollar bill! I will never forget this. He said his name was Michael Love. He gave that money to me so I would buy myself a recorder. My mom said to me she can find one for 20 dollars and we can keep that money for food. I agreed since I was starving. she brought me a wooden flute with my name scratched on the side. I started to play. Money was coming in faster now. Crowds would watch me when I started a song. my can turned into a coffee can, which turned into a Chinese take out box. After one of my small plays, Michael came up to me. A year has passed since the last time I've seen him. he offered me a job at a club he now owned. My mom told me to except his offer, and so I did. At the club was a piano. It was different from any of the other increments I have played before. Michael taught me how to play the basics and told me to try the rest on my own. Its been five years since then. My mom now wakes up in a house. Me and Michael are married, and are happily fed. Michael gave me a chance, and I gave him hope.