Every Monday and Wednesday I would brave the long journey to my English class. The end of the journey held promise of great rewards. For whoever obtains the magical power of English speech is said to be blessed with a brighter future, better station in life, and money shall rain from the sky for the taken. So it is why, every Monday and Wednesday, comes rain or snow, I took the journey in order to dip my palm into the pool of knowledge - and drank.
It is a perilous trip. Not all the pilgrims reach the end of destination. Many fellow travelers succumb to boredom and give up half way. There is also the call of sirens that lure men and women alike away from the path of righteousness. Lastly, there is the Gate Keeper who demands tribute in exchange for books and material. Many hopefuls fell under the Gate Keeper, having no tribute to offer in exchange for the chance at the Water of Knowledge.
So that is how I came to trudge through the mud amongst the road and traverse along the dark concrete jungle in the heart of this dark land - twice a week, at night, with the moon at my back.