No, I don't smoke. Haven't tried it, and I am neither proud nor sad about the fact.
It's like drinking: I don't need to be drunk to feel intoxicated with everything that's happening.
Though sometimes I envy smokers.
Since the mere act draws a perimeter of seclusion around a person.
Alone with himself within his cloud of thoughts.
There is something inviolable about it.
Outwardly deeper than plain introspection.
Vanity without any mirror.
Though of course, most of the time, smokers just seek warmth.
Or to temporarily forget hunger.
Tell me please why this editorial is entitled "The Dream Academy".
When all I see are shadows.
Weight.
(Preening?)
Yes.
Or maybe it is really just the bravery of rebellion.
The stuff of dreams.
Magazine details to follow