I don’t smoke, so why this saddens me is nonsensical, but I guess it’s because people who do smoke love smoking - though most will deny it - and to see this little thing that could’ve created so much joy for someone, that could’ve sparked a hundred different conversations on a hundred different nights in different places ending in completely different ways…all this in a single broken cigarette.
A single shoe laying dirty in the street.
Because one always wonders - what in the world happened to the other shoe? And that although whatever the owner was doing that night was so incredibly fantastic that they didn’t realize what had occurred, they will inevitably wake up and realize with horror that they’ve lost a shoe.
Water damaged books
No more words, no more adventures.