There he is now. In the rain. On Hyde Street. Downtown San Francisco. Stands? Rather he hangs. Supported by a crutch that keeps him from falling. Andy from Kansas City. Just 31, but standing is already difficult for him. A result of addiction. The worst addiction he has ever experienced: fentanyl. And he’s been through a few.
Andy from Kansas City, Missouri. Wears jeans, rain jacket, mustache, hat with ear protection. The body: skinny. The hands: swollen. The arms: scarred. The skin: full of hematomas. The jeans hang far below the bottom. “Look at this,” he says, pointing to his leg. An open position. Ten square centimeters of raw, partly scabbed meat. That, too, is a result of addiction.
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