Smoke is a lovely word. There's really nothing much that isn't wonderful about it, aesthetically. It looms and sweeps and swirls. You inhale and exhale. Just such pretty language surrounding it, isn't there?
Bonfire party last night. I didn't realize how many folks in my program smoke. I honestly don't mind it in the short term, it is only the smell in the hallway that sits from my neighbor smoking that bothers me. Standing next to a smoker, I just want to anti-anxiety myself via the second hand smoke.
Smoke from the bonfire, smoke from cigarettes, smoke from the pot at the next fire over. All of it is clinging to me today. My hair smells magnificent-- I feel like a cocktail waitress in the 20's.
I woke up with a sore throat though. Who can say that it wasn't from the cold?
I've got the feeling I'm wanting to fall in love again.
Instead, I'm going to snuggle with my cats, who didn't recognize me in my Brigitte Bardot hair and make up.
Lots of love.
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