Chris Arnade
Sonia: Hunts Point, Bronx
She had all the niceties of a New England housewife, a call hello and wave down the street, the invitation to her and her husband's new home. You could imagine what she sipped from a straw was an iced latte, and the rings on her hands those of diamond and sapphire. She primped in front of the camera. "I look awful," as many would say out of habit.
In this life, Sonia drank Cobra malt liquor from a straw, wore stale beer as a fragrance. She invited guests to a flooded basement apartment, a nicer abandoned building than the last.
More on Addiction: Faces of Addiction
Sonia: Hunts Point, Bronx
She had all the niceties of a New England housewife, a call hello and wave down the street, the invitation to her and her husband's new home. You could imagine what she sipped from a straw was an iced latte, and the rings on her hands those of diamond and sapphire. She primped in front of the camera. "I look awful," as many would say out of habit.
In this life, Sonia drank Cobra malt liquor from a straw, wore stale beer as a fragrance. She invited guests to a flooded basement apartment, a nicer abandoned building than the last.
More on Addiction: Faces of Addiction