I am a brick on the old dirty wall of a building, facing the alley. Every day, the employees working in the building come to my alley to dump their junk. Every night, homeless people come rest in my alley. Every other morning, a big green garbage truck visits my alley to empty the dumps. Occasionally, there are young people who come and smoke in my alley, or paint things on these walls. They are my visitors who add to the scenery of dull red walls, aluminum garbage dumps and old junk. I have heard stories of other bricks, about being parts of museums, homes, palaces, and even high-rises. Their past sceneries were beautiful. The setting sun over the New York City skyline, the countryside, hell, and even the toilet brick had a peek of the ocean.