During my worst ti meson the park benches in the jails or living withwhoresI always had this certain contentment-I wouldn't call it happiness-it was more of an innerbalancethat settled for whatever was occuringand it helped in thefactoriesand when relationships went wrong with thegirls.it helped through the wars and thehangoversthe back alley fightsthehospitals.to awaken in a cheap rooming a strange city and pull up the shade-this was the craziest kind ofcontentmentand to walk across the floor to an old dresser with cracked mirror-see myself, ugly, grinning at it all. What matters most show well you walk through the fire.