Über das Buch
The first time I smelt the sweet mix of black mold and asbestos I was 8 or 9. My brother and I ripped a board off of the baywindow on an abandoned summer house behind where my parent just moved me. I was not apprehended. The first time I felt my fingers go numb from handcuffs I was barely thirteen. Truthfully my only crimes were knowing how to roll a joint wayyyyyy too young and thinking the other kid would admit to the weed being his. I had gotten away down the seawall unseen but stupidly returned and was unfortunately truthful about my whereabouts previously. But when they asked me about the "drugs", all I could do was shrug. I knew at a young age not to fold on others.