Up the hills in Petion-Ville, I zigzagged through Place St. Pierre, hunting for familiar things. Ah yes! Asterix, the bookstore, I remember that place. It got me in so much trouble as a child. I used to escape in the aisles, sitting on the floor with a pop magazine on my lap. I remember reading about Jennifer Aniston and other celebrities whose work I'd never even heard of. They all seemed so far away. In a land I'd never reach. I'd spend hours there, then later to be met by my mother's belt at home. She thought I used to sneak around to meet boys. And no matter how many times I told her I was terrified of them, I'd be punished either way because I made my little brother wait. Instead of picking him up from school on time, I went to small bookshop to escape.