Paper one pastiche

Passage 1

At such a time the boy found out for certain, that this space filling with people was an intersection where new roads met; and that Jacob was just the friend in his head, and Greg was never there and never real; and that the boy in my dreams, with the fancy shoes, and nice white T, did not exist, and never will, and that the black asphalt roads stretching on incessantly, weaving and winding, illuminated only by street lamps and stop lights, with cars of all shapes and sizes zooming and zipping on the black asphalt; and the storefronts flanking either side, and people busying themselves with wants and desires, walking to and fro without a thought for the young boy of only ten; looking up to the sky with his hands outstretched, he wished for a better life or a helping hand.

Passage 2

A frightened boy, missing the clothing to suit his torso, with nothing but hunks on his feet. A boy whose hair was mangled and knotted, and a face without a set of teeth, and a façade of 40, and the eyes of a boy of ten, and a crusty rag falling round his collar. A boy who had been tossed in rubbish, and bathed in the sun, and dozed on cement, and avoided by eyes, and looked down on by stilettos; a boy who hunched, and baked, and pleaded, and groaned; and whose mind dreamt of a life without struggle as he raised his hands and asked for a penny.