Cigarette smoke of my life…

I will smoke all night long, exhaling with every inhalation all stupidity and imperfection of this world. Inhale and exhale.

And I fell better, a part of me, passing through the charcoal filter of the cigarette, purifies and makes me look at outward things in different light. People………they are so imperfect.

And that is the reason of their charm and fascination! People, I love you already, I love you as much as cigarette smoke does, streaming through me inside and inhaled in atmosphere.

Couple of minutes ago I didn’t notice you, didn’t understand you and tried to avoid you. But now, with every inhalation of cigarette smoke, I begin to distinguish, see and even feel. You run along the sidewalk.

You are in hurry, everybody has his own mission, and I just stand above you and smoke, and it seems that I understand you better than you do. You all are the same, because you run on the one violent escalator of life. I just stand and smoke. I’m above you.

I’m outside. And if you could arrive at the idea of my existence, you would put aside all your urgent affairs and join my smoking process of perception. Yes, I don’t deny the fact that you smoke too. But you do it running, during breaks, secretly, hiding from others.

And you can’t understand me, smoking regardless of everything, enjoying the process in full. You always run, I just stand, with my cigarette, watching at you from the 9ths floor…You are all successful and industrious, but I just smoke and I’m not going to give up.

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