During my time in Japan, I picked up a new habit - smoking. I would let myself have on cigarette per day, and I would save it until the evening. I would sit out on my tanning chair with a cigarette, a Kurt Vonnegut book and “Cafe au lait,” and just enjoy the quiet Japanese evening. The crackling of the cigarette and slowly burning ember are among the things I enjoyed most. As I write this, even, I’m enjoying a clove cigarette. I just accidentally ashed on the floor. Oops. Apparently for the crackling of cigarettes in movies, they use cloves because they’re so much louder. A film-major friend of mine said that the mics can’t pick up that of a normal cigarette. Clove smoke is so much thicker, too. It rises up like a beautiful plume. The taste is toxic. Somehow I’ve always found it satisfying. It’s like breathing poison. Fill my lungs.