I'm sitting here, wondering why junkies are sages, and sages junkies; how a womangirl who's been strung out and slumped over for the last few years can hold all of the secrets in the universe within the slight jitter of her slender hand, holding a handrolled cigarette between perfectly pale fingers, nails bitten off, taking small drags as so to not disturb the movement of her shaking. And how can a junki hold all of the essential energy and life that I am lacking in my own, next to sane, world?