ABOUT THE BOOK
They called us shitty people. The label stuck. We didn’t care and pretended not to hear. And with good reason. Angry storms belted the logies with floods that sent us scurrying for cover. We looked for anything to bail the grime and shit from the mud floors while we got ready for the next flood. They said we couldn’t read, and they were right. We lived in a world without books. We wrote nothing. The mailman never gave us letters. We lived in the shadows, off the grid. We didn’t exist on the map, but it didn’t bother us. This was my world, my piece of heaven. I couldn’t care less about their adjectives. I had Ma and Grandpa, Mother Hackett, Mother Adela, and a host of others to shower me with love in the shit and filth that was Sookoo Yard. I was happy. I was lucky. I found pure love in the howling winds, the pelting rains, and the grime that stained our feet.