“I broke another pipe. Its varnish like bronze, the glass of its body. The spirals of smoke like endless streams of thought. I broke it. I broke one more pipe, in two pieces. No tears, no frowns. It’s gone to the garbage, just as if I never smoked it. But I feel it, I feel like I’m dying.
One night, the blue pipe came back to me. The first one I loved, the first one I destroyed. All the pieces were together again between my lips, like in a kiss. It was blue, blue like the last moment before sleep, blue like thoughts trickling down from a pillow. Blue like a Suede album, blue like a Prague nocturne. One night, the blue pipe came back.
Then I wanted to be stronger, I breathed on a shop window: another pipe was there, behind the glass. Made of glass itself, white and transparent, the only one calling to me. There was another one next to it, the same shape, the same bronze varnish, the same gloomy, shining smile of the pipe I broke. Which one should I choose? Which one should I love? I breathed on the shop window, so many pipes under my eyes. I choose the new one, because love, oh, love, the love you gave can’t ever be replaced.
What is the world without the smoke of a pipe? And what kind of children are we if we don’t play with fire every once in a while? Coloured streamers from my throat, could I consider it my contribution to the world’s happiness? Shadows are the only mirrors where I recognize myself, but in the sheen of a pipe I don’t need to see my reflection. I trace spirals in the air, as if I were in love”.
