Ken's master bedroom.
Ken would never let me photograph him. He was a registered junkie, sensitive and affable, and he was ashamed. When the GLC abandoned their eviction plans and instead offered legitimate tenancies in hard-to-let properties, Ken was one of very few Frestonians who leapt at the chance of a better home. He had had enough of the filth, and fear of unwanted visitors who would try to steal his drugs. At night he barricaded himself in one room, with only one way in or out - a concealed hole through the wall, a refuge carpeted with physeptone bottles.
