Smoke

It is now early morning, was a bad night. The hotel room smokeseems large. The morning sun has concentrated all the cigarette smoke so one can see it hanging in pillars or sliding along the roof like amoeba. In the bathroom, I wash the loose nicotine out of my mouth. I smell the smoke still in my shirt.

—Michael Ondaatje, The Collected Works Of Billy The Kid

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When I Worked

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