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My adventure has just begun and I do not know where it will take me but I
hope for a better journey, one filled the minty smell of trees during summer
and a luscious pumpkin pie during winter. A life unlike the one I have been
living. A life full of enjoyment.

I was walking with dried up tears
on my pale face on the hot and dusty dirt roads where I realised that I had
grabbed my father’s pair of rundown shoes. They felt like cheap old tyres with
worn out treads but it was all I had. I realised that I was holding his entire
life and journey in my hands. With a couple hours of philosophical thought, I decided
that it is now the start of my perilous journey that I so desperately wanted
over the past eight lengthy years. I knew that I had the chance to start over
and it was simply an upward adventure from now onwards. I took my father’s worn
out shoes and built enough courage to leave them behind as I did not want to
live a life like him. After hours of strenuous walking, I reached an old train
station. I had no money but with multiple acts of kindness, I managed to board
a train to Rio de Janeiro.

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It
was late at night and the skies were pitch-black. I gazed at the bright stars
as I couldn’t sleep due to my overwhelming excitement for my birthday the next
day. My excitement died out rapidly as I heard scattered gunshots coming from a
fairly far distance away from our home. I stood dead frozen in my room, too
scared to go outside. I waited 5 minutes until there were no gunshots to be
heard. I walked outside to an acrid and sour
smell of gunpowder. This smell was accompanied with a sickeningly dry metallic scent of blood and the horrid cries of my neighbours inside their houses. I walked
a couple hundred metres where I saw my father, laying covered in blood with his
eyes open and six perfectly circular bullet holes through his chest. It was
then that I knew that my family had been brutally murdered. I sprinted into our
shack, grabbed the first thing I saw and I ran from, what was once called my home
into the outer layer of the favelas.

Early
during my unpleasant life at age eight, I had a lot of free time while my
family were busy working. It was during the most enjoyable time of day, when the
sky was golden with foamy white skies that I saw my first aeroplane. I watched as the shiny silver plane spanned across evening
skies, its trail left to fade with the last of dusk. Since then, traveling
around this wonderful world has always been the most fascinating thing to do in
my life. This idea was emphasized eight dreadful years later, a day before my
sixteenth birthday.

The galaxy, an infinite system of billions upon
billions of stars, a vast space that I have never been able
to explore. It is held together by the law of
attraction, an attraction that holds everything together but never seemed to keep
my family together. Being born onto this world in one of the poorest places,
the favelas of Sao Paulo. You can say I have never been lucky in my life as my entire
family were part of the biggest drug cartel in Sao Paulo but I hadn’t realised it
until it was too late. I did not understand why I was the one to be thrown into
such a terrible situation but I, in my own way managed to embrace it as time
went on.  

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