![]() ![]() But, on the way down, I quietly put a hand on Hank’s shoulder. My friends laughed-“You’re stoned, aren’t you?” Chad said-and I played up my intoxication for effect. ![]() ![]() At one point, I walked right into a piñon tree with prickly branches. The moon was bright, but I found myself tripping on roots and stones and wandering off track. After dark, we hiked up the hill behind the house to get a view of the city. Nina danced alone in front of a boom box to Jane’s Addiction, throwing around her bleached hair. One night, in Hank’s room, our friend Chad sat on a beanbag chair, packing a pipe with weed. We hung out at Hank’s house he was our charismatic leader, and his mom was maximally permissive. I was a freshman in high school, in the mid-nineties, and had recently been accepted into a clique of older kids whom I admired-the inner circle of Santa Fe Prep’s druggie bohemian scene. I first noticed something wrong with my eyes in New Mexico. ![]()
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