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it`s a waste

  “If you want a cigarette,” I said, pushing the pack toward her, “take one. When you drag mine down a quarter of an inch that way, I finish the cigarette unsatisfied because I didn’t have the exact ration of smoke I’m accustomed to. Then, because I feel gypped out of a quarter inch, I light another one, only to find that an entire cigarette, smoked too soon after the one I just finished, is too much. I butt it, replace it in the pack, and when I finally get around to lighting the butt the next time I want a smoke, it tastes too strong and it still isn’t a regular-length smoke. If I throw the butt away, with only a couple of drags gone, it’s a waste, Fra The Burnt Orange Heresy av Charles Willeford. 

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Jeg reiste til Vietnam

O blessed sleep!

a dense and frightful darkness

an insurmountable barrier

all sound

and make others so.

Fear overcame me

mine to protect, love, and cherish

I have no friend, Margaret

foretaste of those icy climes