A fearless, cold, impenetrably inhumane character, with a warm heart deep inside, and a tortured psyche.
He figured out a way to escaped his ravaged city. This Robert Johnson, a man I speak about.
People thought he was going crazy, you know, walking out from his house. He left 2 children behind, little ones, one of the 2 years old.
How was his wife going to cope with it?
He barely earned enough to pay for food, and his wife couldn’t work. Disease had distraught her back in 91′.
Nonetheless, Robert left for newfoundland, searching for newfoundglory. He must have walked for weeks or years. Poor Robert, dying of pneumonia on christmas eve, on a faraway doorstep, in the middle of nowhere, where time was timeless and space was spaceless.