I saw an old familiar face at the park…
There he was, all shriveled like a piece of crumpled up aluminum foil. He looked like a man who had just escaped from the camps of Nazi Germany. All for heroin… Only one life, one short life tossed to the wind in search of that next dopamine rush. HIV… Heroin, dirty water, old needles, and HIV.
I wasn’t even sure it was him, face sunk in, bones poking through his skin. He was eating a bowl of hot soup. His withered hand barely able to hold the plastic spoon.
“You take care of yourself, Shaggy,” I said as I walked away… “you take care of yourself…,” as if there were still time for any such thing. He’s as good as dead, good as dead and yet sitting eyes wide right in front of me. “You take care of yourself…”
Really sad to see. The image is burned into my mind, and now I can’t sleep…
It’s the photos you do not take that keep you awake at night. Thank you for reminding me that it is not about the photos but about the people…