"SUGAR & WHISKEY"
SUGAR & WHISKEY
In a hard area of Skid Row, Sugar crouched next to a brick building to escape the rain and the wind so she could smoke the fentanyl she is addicted to.
A man, only three feet away, was lying within a sleeping bag on the ground. I looked to see if he was awake, or even alive. His eyes were open, and met mine. He said nothing.
“Hello,” I said.
Still, he said nothing. I read fear in his eyes. He was probably wondering why a man with a mohawk, a Doberman, and a camera were in his space and saying hello.
I pulled from my pocket an unopened plastic shooter of whiskey and respectfully tossed it onto his sleeping bag. His eyes became enormous. Finally he spoke, “Thank you!”
Whiskey and cigarettes retain a high street currency, and I have no qualms giving them as gifts when the time feels right.
It was my turn to say nothing. I only smiled gently. I then directed my attention and camera toward Sugar.
“WATCH OUT!” she yelled. She smashed the bowl of the glass pipe against the brick corner of the building. The bowl exploded, and what was left in her hand was a glass straw.
She laid her fentanyl on a small piece of tinfoil and touched the flame of a lighter to the underside of the tinfoil, and as the fentanyl heated, she sucked the smoke through the glass straw, drew it deep into her lungs, and held it there for a very long time.
J.P. Caffee
Photography
24” x 36” Canvas Wrapped Print
