I want a cigarette.
More than anything else in the indifferent universe, I want a cigarette.
But of course, it is not possible. Even though it is possible, of course.
Instead I lay awake every morning wishing I had a cigarette, waiting for the alarm to ring. I get out of the bed in the morning at five a.m. I shower and shave, or don’t, it doesn’t matter, and after I purge myself, I drink a viscous, green, fruit-and-vegetable smoothie, an execrable American contribution to sports science.Read more.