"I loved the clean smell of it,the tight clench around my arm, the stab of damage, and the dull badge of ache. It made me think of my mother. It made me think of her,and then that thought would proceed away into the loveliest bliss. A bliss I had not imagined." In "Heroin/e," Cheryl Strayed writes approximately her mother's illness and death, and her time using heroin.
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