It’s a dark and drizzly January afternoon in Vancouver and I’m sitting in a dimly-lit back-office with Eric, a methamphetamine addict.
Eric is 40 years old, articulate and unshaven, with a heaving mop of black and brown hair.
It’s a dark and drizzly January afternoon in Vancouver and I’m sitting in a dimly-lit back-office with Eric, a methamphetamine addict.
Eric is 40 years old, articulate and unshaven, with a heaving mop of black and brown hair.
