I am so glad to have quit smoking cigarettes and that's been weeks, with no cravings, no coughing, and no problems and no temptations. No yellow guck. No problems at all, whatsoever, my body is through, finished with that bad habit. My brain has sympathy still for the machine rolled cigarette with tobacco from Amsterdam in a metal can - placed into my jewelled brushed silver and black cigarette holder - at a distance, with no lungy pull to the smoke breath intake, just simple puff puff, little this and that, that's nice.
But since that's in a box somewhere I can't care about that right now.
I'm angry at political and legal systems. Those are lower classification and less intelligence right now than is fair, or white, really. It is sadly lacking like the lips flapping of sadness singing her songs of pigmentia.
Think about my terrarium with cannabis stalks. I'd eventually remove the lid, ok. Think about 55 euros spent, seeds delivered, careful thoughts of male and female plants and breeding, and then the long wait for months as the plants grow, and the pipe selection, and then the final drying and careful placement into the pipe, then the smoking rarely after great patience of such an enlightening natural herb - as assistance to me as a writer and a person who thrives on ideas.
Under arrest. Because then it's illegal.
Tell me how this could be?