He was a bastard, yes, a real bastard, he was born like that and he knew that, oh yes, he knew it, it was certainly no secret.
Rumors are known to spread, and this one was spreading the most wherever he went: the son of an unknown father, probably a penniless wretch who, with the promise of money, was duped by a loan shark,nasty pieces of work they were, but what could a small fry know about them? Nothing ,and bam, you go straight down the sharks' throats, nothing remains of you, not even your shoes.
His mother, on the other hand, was very beautiful, blonde, with a pale, wiry face, a small French nose that pointed upward to smell the city's finest perfumes, that tiny face was all framed by some unkempt hair. Unfortunately, that beautiful Parisian nose would be gone in the next few days. She was found dead in her bed, on the third floor of a shack that could barely stand upright, the wood creaking, the walls nothing but rotten planks, just waiting for the first gust of wind to fall.
The kid was truly an unlucky bastard, in a world that doesn't need people like him and don't care enough, but it wasn't uncommon; orphanages were packed to the brim, children living without a mother or father to look after them, that's how it was for the unfortunate ones.
But come on, the years go by and you grow even if you're unlucky, our Joshua knows this well, renamed by the nuns at the orphanage, "Salvation of God". It certainly would have been useful, but a name like that doesn't suit a guy like him, a guy who deep down would have become clever, good first with words and then with deeds, an excuse here, another there, take the gentleman's watch, the lady's bracelet and there he is, the perfect petty thief. Could his name have possibly been Joshua?
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