Fog Smoke and Snow
Showing posts with label camel cigarettes. Show all posts
Showing posts with label camel cigarettes. Show all posts
Fog of smoke at cigarettes
Closing my eyes and I imagine fog of smoke. This fog of smoke at cigarettes sometimes is transparent and light, from time to time is black and heavy.
That is illusion, falsity, secrecy …. It happens in all manifestation: sweet, bitter or dangerous...
Black, white, light, transparent.
Heavy, light, perfidious…..
Sometimes we want to feel her, sometimes not, sometimes keep quiet, sometimes speak up...
Sometimes, we believe and completely accept that this is true....but ears crash with bullshit.
What important place it has occupied in our life? And how much time does she need to become a leader?
My morning. Dream about cigarettes smoke
Cold air and a sharp Morning, has not yet darken stench of exhaust fumes of cars and breathing other people, torn chest.
It is easily and freely, but this becomes cold and lonely. We want to be someone that warm and caress. But realize that no one cozy, because you do not have anyone, and this becomes a sad and plaintively to the heart. We want to sleep more and not to awake.
Lost fog closed me from the world, close to pushing one another reality and the dream. Even cigarette smoke, it is not dissolved before the end, leaving a cloud of corrosive. If a little stand and walk them, then there is that sense of revulsion that a desire to quit cigarettes and never smoke.
But the habits and passions of certain desire to take over power and forced to move away from mere clouds. It is anyone outdoor. Only occasionally reluctant is to work passers. It is dawning has not yet begun, so there is a pleasant street shade, occasionally soluble of lanterns.
Quiet light. Heard only barely breathing and heart audible beating. Finish smoking years with the cigarette falls in puddles. I'm Feeling Bored, but pleased. Feeling are calm. It is again cigarettes. Fog slowly begins distraction, claiming with a serenity and warm .Blow northern wind. At Tel ran shivering. Want to go out there ... where the heat.
At the head of habit turned into law. In the eyes swooped green-gray school. There is a desire, but it is another to go home. Again the wind blowing, throw out every thought of the head. As soon disappeared and desire. Looking as the expression of a person became indifferent.
It has been all along. Inness is dream, in reality, as the fog coming in the morning. The world has been sated autumn paints. Under their feet became clear differ felled leaves and dead grass. Everything was disgusting and sad. It is nor soul around. In this dismal landscape, through thick clouds network, tried to look cold autumn sun. But the attempt failed.
Again the wind blowing, enraged indifference of nature, frustrating the past leaves with trees, rushes towards me. I accepted the ice and severe blow to the face by closing their eyes fully devote to ice flow. Wind becomes silent. At persons left feeling torn. Breath lost.
Had been stopped and recover. Had been recovered, mechanically want smoking. Hand is habitually stretching to bundle cigarettes, but that it is not allowed to do so. Quietness is prevalent after wind gust, at Davila ears.
Calm start oppresses. Half deafen rate through dirt, which accumulated at the pier did not trail, wanted to move quickly to be in school ... strange desire...... Whether fully simmered.
Fog has been scattered as dreams. It is morning.
Illusion deception ...
Turning a blind eye, imagine veil of smoke of cigarettes, at times, transparent and light, black and heavy at times ...
This deception, lies, secrecy ... it happens in all forms, sweet, bitter, dangerous ...
Black, white, bright, transparent.
Heavy, light, perfidious ...
Sometimes, we want to hear it, sometimes not, sometimes hold back sometimes say...
Sometimes we believe and fully agree that this is true ... a drop of noodles ears ...
It is a meaningful place to hold it has become in our lives? Similarly, it will soon to make one’s way in leaders? ...
Cigarette smoke inspired artist
Hebrich Thomas, a photographer from Düsseldorf, spotted these cosmogony sites in cigarette smoke.
But the little-seen, it is important to convey the beauty opened. The task is not an easy one, but the author's works all come: images in the photographs are of the richest association.
That soul, leaving in Eternity, and tornadoes, happened suddenly on the Moon and the X-ray snapshot of fire, and sleep in flavor, and dance magician.
Thomas said that his aesthetic and artistic vision of the world turned the Stanley Kubrick film "Space Odyssey 2001".
Since then, the impact of this picture covers all that he has done neither.
Watch, glasses, cigarettes.
Previously, long enough smokers’ rights can be determined by the presence or absence of cigar and according to the material from which he (cigar) made of decorated.
The tradition continued, but smoke-case is not so popular, at least among the middle class. Clearly, the need to buy the stack and shift its contents to another little package who beauty. There are, however, a kind of thin cigars (such as "Coffee-Crim’), which directly in smoke-case and sold, but where the same then exporting the metal became unnecessary packaging?
So smoke-case left alone and moves on to cigarette bundle. It was strange; cigarettes are still indicator of the consumer in a particular social group.
They largely determine the image rights. Of course, the "prestigious" any brand is not as a result of the package, but because of the price (if agree that it defines quality), but from the design of brand positioning is something that depends. One day does, the stack is the same accessory as watches or sunglasses.
You
We were sitting on the window-sill.
Tea, night. Your rhythmical low voice murmured in tune with the night, seething because of cars’ growling.
Acrid cigarette smoke and the smell of mint penetrated inside, making me sneeze. Your eternal lovely smile and tender look of kind hazel eyes.
Strong warm hands, soft skin. And cigarette smoke.
I remember you…I remember when we met for the first time. You will stay with me forever. You and this cigarette smoke.
I don’t smoke, I love freedom
I don’t smoke. But my hairs have the smell of cigarette smoke. Hmm…I’ve always loved freedom. Anyway, my hairs have the smell of cigarette smoke. Not sky, not wind, not his breath. All this don’t stay too long.
But the smoke - deceitful, fickle, grey, killing – always stays. Invisible part of me. Without color. Without permission. Only the smell. And the flavor.
I love freedom. There are 11 corners in my room. Not 4. Four corners – is a stereotype. I have 11 corners, and there is much space in my room. Much light. But there are more corners inside me.
Every day I heard about this. Every time when somebody stumbled. When somebody stumbled and broke his head over these damn corners. The corners are filled with cigarette smoke.
Cigarette smoke is outside.
The corners are inside.
I don’t smoke, and I love freedom. Freedom is loneliness. Loneliness is a consequence of corners. Corners - the space for cigarette smoke.
Without title
Cigarette smoke absorbs your clothes and your lungs, the sound covers you, it separates you from reality, and your mind falls asleep under the exposure of poisonous cocktail.
It’s dark around, but the bright light strikes the eyes. Bodies, belonged to strangers try to move keeping time with music.
You close your eyes and flow together with smoke, with music, your thoughts fly away to the distant ceiling, which seems not to exist, though the particles of your gray substance prompt that the ceiling is here.
Where are you? What’s with you? You have no idea. You just know that you still live, but somewhere in supernatural world.
You can only feel…….Smoke tears your nostrils, and your ear-drums are ready to burst because of the noise, crawling on them.
But what has happened suddenly? Y
ou are cold again, you are on earth, you are together again with your thoughts. Clothes are filled with cigarette smoke – it is the only one reminder about the world you’ve visited. You listen to the wind.
Now, not sounds, but the wind rushes into your ears and cuts them through. The wind hits against your face, as the wave hits against stones. You are on earth again.
Subtle seconds of detachment passed, and you are on earth again. Probably, in two days, in a week, in a month you’ll be in chase of unreal seconds of happiness, reverie, and they will fly over you, slightly touching the grain of your soul.
And they fly away again, leaving you on this sinful, black planet, and they will keep the hope that you’ll catch them, i.e. you’ll stop the course of the time. And they’ll fly away again, far away and irreversibly, born for the freedom. 
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.
Cigarette smoke may cure?
Every day physicians and scientist all over the world tell about the hazardous effect of cigarette smoke.
But, it turned out it is not that simple – even in harmful cigarette smoke there are substances which are able to become medicines.
The matter concerns cotinine – one of the decay products of nicotine. According to scientists from Medical College of Georgia, this substance has an evident protective effect as regards brain cells.
Under the cotinine’s action, nervous cells are able to endure such conditions, which lead to the cells’ death without this preparation practically in 100% of cases.
Scientists believe, that cotinine may become the component of medicinal preparations, which, in particular, will be applied for the treatment of Parkinsonism and Alzheimer's disease
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