I drew that in high school art class in 1987. In that same class, a kid at my table was talking about how he will drive a Lamborghini when he grows up because he is going to be rich like Donald Trump. “Who’s that?” we asked. The Vice President’s son was on a coke bender and a wierd Black guy was giggling in a Chicago bathhouse. Sammy Weaver was a nine-year-old boy. We had no idea of the coming nightfall or about any light at the end of it.