Ehouse

Scars

This is a man I met on the street in San Francisco. He was slumped up on a bench with a few possessions; the most prized being a small crack pipe he kept in his...
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This is a man I met on the street in San Francisco. He was slumped up on a bench with a few possessions; the most prized being a small crack pipe he kept in his hands. After attempting to smoke the resin left over from last time he scored, I walked up to him and asked if I could take his photograph. He said I could, and after snapping a photo, I sat and talked with him for a while. He told me his story and I told him a bit of mine. I've had substance abuse problems as well and his story really resonated with me. He pointed out the scars on his face, which I hadn't noticed before. He had been hit with a sheet of plate glass eighteen years ago, and the glass splintered off and stuck in his skin. To this day, he continues to pull out shards of glass; the festering wounds and blood on his face, which I took for dirt when I first saw him, were evidence of this. After having talked with him for so long, I asked if I could take another photograph. He said I could, and that's when I made this photograph.
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