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You gotta roll, roll, roll

September 5, 2011

I spend the weekend at my cousin’s place.

Her house always smells of stale cigarette smoke. It has seeped into everything and if you stay long enough, you will not even notice the smell.

She is a little broke these days so we stay in.

She says, ‘I will create the ambience, don’t worry’.

Soon, the candles are lit, fine glassware is taken out and friends are invited over.

It is either scotch or rum, never any gin.

And friends of friends are not stranger enough to avoid having to make conversations with.

So I just sit in the corner and set playlists for a while till…

More smoke, more ice and voices  become as soft as melting candles.

I sit among them and yet am away, a witness to this sepia toned evening.

This is what surrealism would feel, wouldn’t it?

It is that deepest hour before dawn and I am still rolling joints but not smoking any.

 

 

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One Comment leave one →
  1. September 6, 2011 12:52 pm

    Nice. Love the lines-More smoke, more ice and voices become as soft as melting candles.

    I sit among them and yet am away, a witness to this sepia toned evening.

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