NEEDLEWRITER

A lit small ember in the dark room lit a darkened face behind it and it was clear to me that it was something wrong behind the smoke. It hid something dearly to the smoker but it was still hidden deeply in the desguise of the face and hand which used the little companion. In the room, it was clear to me, the question was not if it was cancerous, deadly – but, what was it really doing while smoking, I mean what was really the smoker doing. Through analasis and deep thought and by knowing many a poor smokers I annihilated everything but a small fullbody stream of nicotin streaming fully and slowly and densly through his, by smoke veiled body. The cigarette was the coding aparatus – he was the first real smoker I saw, the protoone. Could it be that he, with all the nicotin and nicotin acid invented a bodily code to listen only to him ( I mean the code listens only to him, the protosmoker) and that would only succumb to hisown will. What a genious I thought. No more smoking for free! – he concluded as the extras that weren’t necessary got disengaged from his smoking process and thrown away as if never existed. And a funny thing occured them – he got it – a strem of wonderfull fresh air invented only for him, for himself started to stream too.
Lovely be, let him alone whatever thou may be.
THE END