A junkie looking for one last fix in a town full of ghosts .

I never understood what was happening during my life. It’s no surprise that death is the same.

This is a ghost story. A junkie has gone to El Zapotal to die--rent a room in this crumbling backwater, melt into one last fix, and not come back. For someone so ready to no longer be alive, though, his principal occupation is remembering the past. His old dog, Kid, who he abandoned. His love, Valerie, who he introduced to drugs. There’s no such thing as a good memory.

Going out breaks up the hallucinations and the days, but the people aren’t welcoming, the streets are empty except for strays, and he’s having trouble pacing his supply. As the drugs run out, the line between what’s real and what’s not blurs to the point of illegibility, leaving us in a tenderly described hinterland of despair, hunger, regret. Elizondo Garcia has given us a descent for the ages, a long goodbye without no clear line between the living and dead.