He stumbled slightly, the limp in his leg still there. He dared not to look at the place he used to call home. He could feel the heat from the fire, the fire that he himself had ignited. He blinked back tears, as he limped away.
How can I be king of the world? Because I am king of rubbish. And rubbish is what the world is made of. — Kate DiCamillo, The Miraculous Journey of Edward Tulane
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