I've never really been a smoker, but I do smoke from time to time.
A still room and a lit cigarette. The smoke streams into the air, with a slender, gentle dance.
Honest, smokers seem, at least with themselves. Sitting in the back, standing outside, a gathering with the smell, the burn, the smoke, and flame.
The bearded old man, the girl with the blue dress, and the policeman. Smoking together - seeming to tell more than they are saying.
Not knowing each other, but never were really strangers.
I have sat here all night watching smokers and thier smoke, why - I'm not sure.
Hey man, can I get a light?
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