While standing on a corner at Princess Street, I slowly realize I have no idea where Steven Heighton lives.
Normally, this lack of knowledge wouldn’t be an issue. But on this particular day, it’s a problem. I’m supposed to meet Heighton at his home at 1 p.m., and as the hands on my watch creep towards 1:05, I’m still staring at the address Heighton gave me over the phone that I wrote down. Sadly, the address doesn’t appear to exist.Continue...