David Benioff, City of Thieves
England…originally from the chav town of Stevenage (2001s most teenage pregnancies AND mental health suicides, also produced Dirty Anal Kelly and Lewis Hamilton (although it’s hit and miss that he admits his roots these days)).
Having raged against the town for many years I finally ran out of drugs to do and bridges to burn, so went spinning off across the world (much to the detriment of my music career), and eventually settled in Fremantle, Australia for a while before the anchor of female companionship dragged me back to England. Bristol this time though, where I spent 5 years earning silly amounts of money yet spanking it all on restaurants and fancy wine.
We moved to Cornwall where I had something of a breakdown, eventually ending up in a bedsit in Penzance by myself with a couple of quid to my name and seeds to feed. I dragged myself from that lowly gutter inch by fucking inch until I became the person I am today. Where am I from? The fucking trenches son, grab a helmet.
A better answer has never been posted.
The pain of walking on grass. “Blades” of grass has always struck me as apt, because my feet had not yet developed calluses, so they felt like razors.
Parents, don’t put your babies in the middle of the lawn.