I lived in a mostly pre-gentrified Harlem during the mid-90s while I was in college. Walking to my apartment after class, I would inevitably find used syringes and empty glassine packets littering the sidewalks outside the crackhouses that lined upper Broadway. The aftermath of Halloween, with all of the empty candy wrappers tossed along the sidewalk of my suburban street, reminds me of the careless junkies back in the day. Call me old-fashioned, but I think if you’re going to get your fix, you should at least wait until you get home. Or find a flea-bag crackhouse somewhere to get your rush on. Give a hoot, don’t pollute!

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