novembre ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- cowboys and ashes the sky is hanging low, forcibly inserting itself into our lungs. "my allergies are going crazy from that fire up north," he says. the wind took the fire's ash and gave it to us. don't look a gift horse in the mouth, you'll see the back of its throat, red and purpled from sneezes and coughing fits. "i haven't smoked any cigarettes in two days," he tells me. "i have them on me, but i haven't smoked any." he pulls out a crushed pack of shermans. i raise my eyebrows at the fancy brand, noting how he holds them close to his hip like a gunslinger. "i'm just testing myself. seeing how long i can go." he shrugs, pride in his upturned chin. i am amazed. it has taken me years to learn not to give in to that kind of immediate temptation. (or at least to learn facets of it; i still smoke. i'll admit that, head hanging, dogged and dodgy as the sky.) 9:10 pm - 10.14.04 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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