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Day or two later Freedom is one of the first words I teached myself to write. Down in the Quarters people pray for freedom - they sing 'bout freedom, but to keep Mas' Henley from knowing' their true feelings, they call freedom 'heaven'. Everybody's mind is on freedom. But it is the word that aine never showed me no picture. While fannin' this afternoon, my eyes fell on 'freedom' in a book William was reading'. No wonder I don't see northing'. I been spelling' it FR-E-D-U-M. I put the right letters in my head to make sure I remembered their place. F-R-E-E-D-O-M. I just wrote it. Still no picture...
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