People sit on cracked wooden benches in a weed-infested "park", gulping cans of Jaguar. For a treat, people take the bus to the McDonald's by the train station.
Life for two million junkies here: crime, stints in prison, probable contraction of HIV and hepatitis C, and an early death. At least until now. Recently, an even more terrifying spectre has raised its head - krokodil.
Life expectancy of a full-time krokodil addict: less than a year.
"You're dreaming of heroin, of something that feels clean and not like poison. But you can't afford it, so you keep doing the krokodil. Until you die."
Its poisonous ingredients quickly turn the skin scaly. Worse follows. Flesh goes grey and peels away to leave bones exposed.
Now, in the entrance of a decaying Soviet-era block of flats, Oleg readies his fix...
Supplies: painkillers, iodine, lighter fluid, industrial cleaning oil, and an array of vials, syringes, and cooking implements.
Now: Boil, distill, mix, shake. Finally, it's caramel coloured and ready for the syringe.
The acrid smell of burnt iodine is in the air. Dirty needle in hand, he looks for a vein in his bruised forearm. He closes his eyes, and takes the hit.
"If you miss the vein, that's an abscess straight away."
Oleg has rotting sores on the back of his neck.
