April 30, 2015 | Boston Globe
The American Dream rolled over and died again on a recent morning. This time the setting was a spit of oceanfront land tucked behind the Lynn-way, with views of Boston.
They call this patch of coastal woods Tent City, and it’s the end of the line for those who have burned just about every connection to the outside world. Here, souls leave traces of their demons along the paths that circle a few small hills and trees. Used hypodermic needles, empty liquor bottles, and old crack pipes lead a trail to tents and sleeping bags alongside rusted cooking grills, clotheslines, and piles of moldy trash.