I wish I could smoke and pontificate. I’d love to light up a small thin white cigarette and inhale and watch the smoke spill out before me. I’d like that smoke to follow my thoughts.
I’d like to pontificate with someone else. I’d like that someone else to be smoking too: A man with a beard, who’d been smoking a lot, a man who offered me a cigarette–people don’t offer their cigarettes to anyone, anymore. They always assume otherwise.