From where Jesus Guadalupe sits - an upside down milk crate in the Union Square subway station - anything is possible.
He's an 18-year-old high school dropout. He is homeless. And he has a birth defect that elicits stares and painful comments.
But here he is, shirtless, playing a drum for small change.
"I want to be a writer - but later in life, when I'm in my 30s or 40s," he said. "Right now I'm in my little rocker, teenage jam-session stage of life."
His immediate plans are to save up for a full drum set and an apartment. He doesn't rule out being discovered for a small role in a film or television show, possibly the start of an illustrious career.
The subway is often a necessary but uneventful part of daily life. Ride to work with a group of strangers. Ride home with another batch of strangers. On the best of days, you might get a pleasant surprise, or a bit of inspiration.
This is the city where people come to realize dreams, if not completely reinvent themselves.
"I used to get down on myself and say, 'Everybody is against me. Everyone hates me,'" Guadalupe said one day last week.
"But when I went out on my own, it hit me. I had to stop it. You only live once. Why should I let my disability stop me? Now that I'm in New York City, I have a new vibe about me."
Guadalupe was born with phocomelia, a congenital malformation that, at first glance, makes it appear as if his hands are attached to his shoulders. According to a medical dictionary, the word "combines phoco (seal) and melia (limb) to designate a limb like a seal's flipper."
"Some kids have it much worse," he said. "I was one of the well-off cases. Some are born without a mouth, eyes or ears. Some are born without a nose."
One morning last week, a woman heading to a train stopped to thank Guadalupe for playing. Her nephew is disabled. He gets depressed. The woman couldn't wait to tell her nephew about the subway drummer.
"I see others who are disabled, and I see their faces. They're Debbie Downers. I want to change their perception of the world," Guadalupe said after the woman continued on her way.
Born in Brooklyn, Guadalupe and his family moved to Georgia, where for a few painful years he attended high school.
Southern charm, he said, was lacking among his peers, and the cruel comments and snickering wore him down. He can't forget the hurtful remarks: Look at him. He's so ugly. Look at his arms. What girl is ever going to look at you?
"It was rough, really rough," he said. "I just dropped out."
He came to the city a few months ago to make a new start, taking up residence in a homeless shelter for young men, he said.
"I came up with some solutions to my poverty - singing on the train, dancing, making a fool of myself," he said.
He started out drumming on plastic buckets until he had enough money to buy a snare.
The response has been good, he said, but that's not to say it's been a completely smooth ride.
Guadalupe was at the front of the Occupy Wall Street march on Sept. 17. Dozens were arrested. Some protesters were hit with pepper spray.
Guadalupe nearly got arrested for disregarding a captain's order. She let him go, but took his drumsticks, he said.
He said he also got robbed of several days' earnings as he hung out with other kids in Union Square.
"It hit me hard, but there's nothing I can do about it," he said.
"I'm going to have to keep moving forward with my plans. I'm not complaining. It's a work in progress."
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