April 6, 2021:
It's immediate, in these pictures. He's not himself.
He's gone soft in the middle, his hair is dirty in a scraggly pony tail, his face is puffy, he's wearing a thrift store jacket and ancient, stained sweatshirt. Where this is best behavior: a date in Golden Gate Park.
Depression. Post-breakdown. Post-addiction. This is not his life, he knows that, but he couldn't tell you to save his life where his real life might be found.
It's striking that he smiles anyway. He's always smiling. All of the photos where I know he was unhappy, often terribly unhappy, he's smiling. As here, in Golden Gate Park, some sunny day, perhaps in summer, where his girlfriend of that moment thinks he's wonderful, but whatever he's thinking is hidden behind smiles.