The Masked Smoker

Drawing: Cristina Daniela Gagiu
Poetry: Oana Maroti

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Time passes as fast as the smoke of my cigarette rises.

Not long ago I finished my super delicious dish and I want to enjoy being outside, you know, seeing the sky, the moon, the trees, hearing the birds and all that.

Even if I don’t breath to perfection, I breathe…

Time for my cigarette, a light of self destruction manifesto.

Here I am, with a mask on reclaiming my right to smoke in the neighborhood where I live.

Generally, I smoke just after I eat.

2020, if you want to go in a social place you need a mask.

There’s a mask on my face, yes, with a hole in it.

I somehow expect to be smoking in hell, no problem.

Ironically, it’s on earth now, that I’m not allowed to smoke without a mask and it feels like being in chains.