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            It was early morning, right after sunrise. I was walking down an old, country road, trying to find my grandmother’s new house. The sounds of the birds chirping and singing filled the morning air. It was like music to my ears. The sun was not too bright, yet bright enough to leave dew on the grass. I felt the bumpiness and jagged edges of rocks with each step I took. There was also a faint smell of cow manure, which was horrendous to my sense of smell, in the fields to my left and to my right. The aftertaste of my toothpaste was still fresh in my mouth. I was walking down this same road for a few miles and still did not find the house I was looking for. I needed to get off my feet and rest because I had never walked this far before because I lived in the city. The encounter I would have in the next few minutes would change the views of myself and of life in general forever.
             The road I was traveling had an unpaved, gravel type surface. The countless little chunks of rocks lying there made my shoes very white and extremely dusty. The road was rarely traveled by any vehicles because of the fact that there were very few houses that occupied the road. To my left, I could see large sycamore trees for as far as my eyes could see. They were all beautiful, and they all had luscious green leaves growing from them. To my right, all I could see was rows and rows of corn. They were about as high as an average home and were very thick. This whole road had nothing but farms. The road was extremely windy in its path. It would be tough to travel this road at night without being familiar with it first. It only had room for one car to travel at once, but with so very few people, who lived on it, that did not seem to be a problem. There was no sign of this road ending anytime soon, either. Up ahead I could tell someone must have had a little accident because it had tire tracks veering off into the barbed-wire fence on the side.