My first love were wild plants. I have vivid childhood memories of blades of grass and prickly thistle leaves pushing their way through old asphalt and paving stones in the East End of London. This was in the time before the revitalization, before the East End became fashionable and respectable. Only poor people and refugees from World War II lived there then, my family being among them. Those visual memories of leaves beating the odds and uplifting the stones became a metaphor–never give up, you can get there, beyond your wildest dreams.