Life, in fact, is similar to dlinnyuschuyu lit cigarette. Or stack of such cigarettes. Bertie one, the second, third, razmenivaesh dozen second, third, fifty kopecks, and when the stack of lead-end and not vedaesh.
Gray weekdays, in fact, similar to the smoke produced. Also fading into nothing and Cascade are not remembered, if not sit in any room and not nakurennom zapisyvaesh in memory.
Memory, in fact, is like a filter. Through the prism of the same smoking-smoking, tleesh-tleesh, but still not all to remember. Indeed:
Memories, in fact, resemble stryahivaemy ashes. Only stryahivaet they are someone else, as if one wants to keep it, give potlet second, third leave at some distance from the filter. Why another? And because:
The man, in fact, it is smouldering coal cigarettes. Marlborough - Maxim. Parliament - Pasha. Red & White Cigarettes - Rex, Adam. Davidoff, LM, Kazbek ... and where I am, I am happy desirable?
Happiness, in fact, seem to separate tightening - when it is near, it does not feel it, and when zatyagivaeshsya full smiling mouth, then try to enjoy them fully, but in the end, did have to produce smoke, and then he and the same color weekdays, envelops you. But after each skurennoy cigarettes begin to appreciate those delays that we have had, those tiny moments of happiness that have left and not returned. You can certainly try to get a new cigarette, but sediment from the old still remain.
Now, in fact, tleyu to filter ash-stryahivayu unnecessary memories appreciate each mini-tightening happiness, which is to kill any cigarette paper and co-fire with it, forget about the smoke-besproglyadnosti, moreover, I continue to play in nikotinozavisimost-CPP.