The scars you can't see are the hardest to heal. Astrid Alauda.
This is a story honoring my family, friends and those people who
lived and died with me on the streets of Los Angeles in the early
nineteen seventies and eighties. It is about the dangerous times
and experiences that we shared, while growing up in an overflowing
environment filled with abuse, drugs, and violence that lead to
overdoses, suicide and murder. Most of my friends died of unnatural
deaths. A lot of years have passed and masses of healing have taken
place, but the scars are still present. Every word you are about to
read is indisputably true, with the exception that names have been
changed to protect the identity of the innocent, as well as the
guilty. For every one of my friends and family who lived it and for
all of those who have died, this is your story.
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