While I was walking down a residential street I began thinking aboutmy good Dallas friend Eloise. I remembered someone having recently asked Eloise if she used to be a hippie and Eloise having said she hadn't been a hippie. If someone would have asked me that question I probably would have answered, "I tried as hard as I could to be."
As I walked along, I was smoking a rather thick cigar. I had smoked most of it, but about four centimeters were left. I was absorbed in the smoking of the cigar. I didn't regularly smoke cigars and it seemed like such an unusual thing for me to be doing. I inhaled the smoke sometimes, and sometimes I just tried to taste the smoke in my mouth and then blow it back out. The taste was somewhat stimulating, although it was nothing to get excited about.
I reflected about how different it was to be smoking at this mature stage of life, compared to smoking as a teenager. I figured that the cigar would cause damage to my lungs and to my health, but that the damage wouldn't be as intense now. So I took inhalations and tried to savor the cigar. I realized I certainly wasn't going to make a habit of this. I was going to smoke this one cigar, enjoy it and then stop smoking.
I thought there was a library somewhere in this neighborhood I would like to go into.
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