Morning came early as he stepped out of the local shelter, which he called home that night. He slung his backpack over his shoulder and paused for a moment, allowing the sunshine to warm his face. He stretched his weary body and realized he could sleep for days and still feel tired. He’s not homeless, as most think he is. He has a place he used to call home, a cabin that sits on his family’s trap line an hour away in Philomena

 Johnny was sitting in his easy chair, finishing his afternoon coffee while listening to Hank Williams Jr. sing, 'How a Country Boy Can Survive.' The early afternoon sun was stretching its rays to the corner of the living room, drawing his attention to the shine. He noticed his old Violin peeking out of the corner and picked it up, wiping the dust off.