When i went to emil milan with Struck’s letter of recommendation, he was most friendly, but he was in the midst of packing. He told me that he was about to go on tour, then he would take a vacation. Now it was May, he would be back in August; he took my address, promised to write to me on his return, and dismissed me. That was a hard blow. My hopes, which were already sky-high, had to creep back into the darkest corner of my heart. It was not the first time I had knocked at a door, seen it open, only to have it slam in my face. A humiliated, homeless puppy, I slunk away, convinced that I had only encountered another of the polite ways to get rid of people.