Hart House and the Little Flower that Could
An excerpt from a resident's personal story of struggle and hope. My story is that of the lotus. I was born in the mud. Hart House was and is my means to bloom. Shelter, safety and food might be basic needs but they’ve just been a foreign luxury to me. I had an abusive “home” until I became homeless as a juvenile after my mother’s brain aneurism. At that point, all I could do was survive one tragedy to another. Life was possible but so was tragedy. I was stolen and forced into a human trafficking ring for 3 months. I broke free, was caught and broke free again but addicted, scared and broken with no family or home. | 
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