I’d like to say heroin was like laying down in a field of flowers while the sun’s rays caress my face, but that’s not it. I’d like to say it’s like scratching a deep itch, but that’s not it either. I’d like to say it’s like summer vacations or Saturday mornings, but they all fall short. Have you ever felt the hand of God inside you, as if he reached his palm into your chest, caressed your heart, and nothing but his good grace and beauty pumped through your veins? Well, that, my dearest Angelica, is what heroin feels like.
