I watched an exotic woman inhaling the heat of a burning cigarette; she stood in front of her natural silhouette blowing eclectic rings of smoke into the early morning light.
Her eyes remained closed; her body upright and motionless.
The unfiltered vapors of thought, transforming manifestations from the incantations of familiar frustrations.
She summoned calmness from the root of nicotine; the stillness of her presence conjured Serenity from the unyielding grave.
An exotic woman embraced the spirits of nostalgia, from the lingering ashes.
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