Somebody mentioned the Panama Canal today, and it suddenly triggered off a memory of a dream last night, in which I was smoking cigars.
I don't remember much else about it (the dream), except for a vague sense of decadence. I used to be very anti-smoking when I was growing up, and then not too long after I started art college, I found myself on the cigars, and inhaling them fully.
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3 comments:
Nasty things. My father would light up a cigar, walk through the house, then go out to the garage, spreading the stink, since he was not allowed to smoke in the house. Good thing, too, since with a coal furnace, the air was toxic enough as it was.
I keep having the Panama palindrome running through my head at odd times.
Oh, I've always loved the smell of cigars. They came accompanied by the stench of hypocrisy for me though, since I'd often chastised my dad for the smell of smoke from his pipe.
'fraid you'll have to enlighten me as to the Panama palindrome.
A man, a plan, a canal, Panama.
Oh, now pipe smoke I love. Uncle Walt would blow smoke rings for me. Died of a heart attack, though. Smoking is very hard on the heart.
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