My Friend Meth

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My friend METH During one of my random late-night shoots, I ran into one of my old friends from highschool. Inseperable from age 5 to 16, then after graduation our paths split. Last thing I remember is her wanting to become a model. Now, 10 years later, those dreams seem farfetched. Marion, or Misty as she likes to be called these days, fell into the wrong crowd, dated some seriously lousy men and started dabbling in various substances. Living at number 413 in one of the suburbs near Amsterdam is where Misty spends most of her time, so she tells me. Practically begging me to come over, I felt obliged to agree. And intrigued at the same time. We come from similar backgrounds, what choices had she made in order to end up living like she did, or does for that matter?





Welcoming me into her shabby appartment, she insists on wearing her favorite wig. I wonder if she does that to be able to distance herself, if she’s able at all. As she’s gesturing for me to sit down, she puts back on her headpiece and whispers: ‘Sshh, this one won’t take long’.

A wink, like she’s joking. But she’s not, not according to the beaver shot she’s about to present. I try not to gawk but am fascinated by her smoking like a truck driver,purring and cooing into her microphone and not being phazed by my presence or taking pictures of her. Every once and a while she glances over and grins, her fake teeth glistening in the harshly illuminated darkness. She turns off her webcam and changes the cigarette for a blunt. I ask her what she does nowadays, and after some drags of her joint she answers she has an escortcompany; which I know is a lie, I could trace the badly hidden needle-marks. I look at the clock.”I have to go now. My mum says hello, by the way”. She shrugs. Then coughs. Turns on her webcam. “Bye now”, I say and wave, as if she’s able to only read sign-language. She waves but I can tell she’s not here anymore. The girl I knew is gone for good.




In reality this so-called working girl, is one of my best friends and her “shabby� appartment is actually mine. She was willing to strip to her undies and to respond to my lewd requests.



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