This one will either die of neglect or explode with starry musings, but do you ever feel sorry for those enslaved to coffin nails? I smoked the damn things for thirty years before turning to the joys of the pipe. They have become my favorite inseparable companions during my walks (now lunts) through the city at night, my source of inspiration when sitting before a keyboard as I compose my book. How I regret those years of cigarettes!