It’s still dark out. The sun isn’t due up for an hour yet, but I’m already sitting in my front window watching Elk Valley Road slowly awaken. The occasional logging truck screams by in the growing light, bypassing Crescent City on the way down the hill from last year’s fire scars. In the trees all around the house – it’s called The Swamp – there are dozens, maybe hundreds of people stirring. Soon, the long slog to the recycling center or the showers at Open Door or whatever will begin. Across the street, a lone bachelor elk pauses beside the nursery, eyeing the fulgid, fertilized bounty just beyond the chain link. It looks like any other day just about to begin in the Heart of the Meth District. But I know the truth: Today, everything changes.