labarta
campus, normal
i like to think of fire held in man’s hand.
fire, a dangerous force, tamed at his fingertips.
i often wonder about the hours when a man sits alone,
watching the smoke of a cigarette, thinking.
i wonder what great things have come from such hours.
when a man thinks, there is a spot of fire alive in his mind
- and it is proper that he should have the burning point of a cigarette as his one expression.
