Sigaretta

[imperatrice]

Yes I've read bad things about you, but I think they are all lies
You've been getting more expensive, but I'd still rather pay the price
Friends betray me and deceive me, you're my one and only friend
Sigaretta, sigaretta, you will kill me in the end.

An occasional vice of mine is to stand on my balcony in the bitter weather, puffing at a cig and drinking. It's been a long week with deadly amounts of last-minute work with tons of stress, and I wonder if all this will pass.

The moon rolls across the sky, trailing inky ribbons of clouds.

I feel like I am becoming colder here by the day. I have another business trip to Bath next week, and the warmth of good friends beckons. But sometimes I feel like none of it really matters in the end. The eventual heat death of the universe triumphs over everything.

"I'll tell you," said she, in the same hurried passionate whisper, "what real love it. It is blind devotion, unquestioning self-humiliation, utter submission, trust and belief against yourself and against the whole world, giving up your whole heart and soul to the smiter–as I did!"