The smell from the neighbour’s second hand smoke comes through my open window every so often. I like it like some people like the scent of lavender. It’s like when a woman puts just enough of a sweet smelling perfume. It’s faint but invigorates the mundane existence of untainted oxygen.
I’ve smoked cigarettes all my life but managed to never be a regular smoker. The truth is I never really liked smoking cigarettes all that much. I enjoy the odd one here and there but my body rejects them most of the time. Like the cheap Chinaman I am, I only started smoking because I could get my hands on a pack of Marlboro’s for $4 a pack back in 1993. That might not sound so inexpensive but in Canada it was. Find a friend who wanted to split a pack and it only costed you $2 to look so very cool. Marlboro’s were cool because they were illegal here and one could only get them at secret spots.
A part of me wishes that I could enjoy cigarettes more because they keep you company. You hang out with it and you suck the life out of it so that it can one day suck the life out of you. What a beautiful relationship.