at 10 in the morning when I took this picture there were heroin addicts scoring all the way along the bridges on either side of this building. Where do you start to describe all the suffering that leads to and from that point? and even if you were to wrap it up in a ribbon of words, what good would come of it? Nothing at all. That's what.

I suppose if I were a practising Catholic I would send a prayer to the Heavens, something along the lines of. "Mary, Queen of Heaven and Refuge of those torn asunder, look upon your children and show an ounce of mercy"

then I would wait to see if the Queen of Heaven moved from her depressive's stupor