You know, we should pity them. They are pushed outside, like a dog, that got wet and now – well, pews and is not allowed to enter the living room. And this, despite the fact they are quite nice chaps, our smokers. Their only problem is, being addicted to something that has been frowned on more and more in the last few years.
Winter is particularly hard for them. Out in the cold. You find them then out on the balcon, on the streets in front of their offices, huddled in little groups, their cold, stiff, trembling fingers holding the little white sticks. Now and then Mother Nature strikes without mercy, sending one with fever and a flu to the bed. Hard long days without a cigarette…
But soon it will be over. Soon it will be summer and you can slip into your mask of enjoying the smoke. Then we can watch you again, together in small groups, sitting in street cafes in the sun, the little grey cloud over your heads.
I wonder… is this the mating ritual of Homo Sapiens Nikotinus?