terse & at large

GRRRRR. Arrrgh. And sometimes a travel log.

Sunday, July 31, 2005


Originally uploaded by Terz.

"Why are you still smoking?" she asks.

Why am I still smoking?

Maybe I'm not still smoking. Maybe I am. Maybe I'm starting to like it, even though I'm still gagging when I do it. Maybe I just like to hold the slim, white-skinned stick of carcinogenic death waiting to happen, feel it sitting in between the index and middle fingers of either hand, or to smell the length of its pre-lit state, the curious mix of paper and tobacco that reminds me of when I was younger and lighting one of those up didn't seem to slow me down as much as they do now.

Maybe it's because I smoke by the kitchen window and watch the rest of the neighbourhood go about its own business from a lofty perch and I like that. Stop and smell the roses, people say all the time. I stop, light up and smell the acrid burning of dead leaves.

Maybe I'm addicted. Maybe I'm not. Maybe I'm just bored.

Maybe it's not good for me.

Maybe it's just another Sunday in SIN-city.


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