II

He took the dirty bong into his hands and lit it. His finger covering the round hole in the glass caused the liquid to boil in a physical process unknown to myself. Vapors of sweet deceit started rising, climbing up the long cylinder. He had put his mouth into the upper end and was staring into the round bottom in expectance. It took a while till the white vapor reached his lips. It was as if time had stopped. I was loosing patience. Staring eagerly at him, I lost the moment of contact just like every time I am waiting for the minutes of the watch to change and miss the exact second because of concentrating too hard. Nevertheless, he eventually inhaled the thick clouds by swallowing their fuzziness. The substance then parted, the tobacco heading towards his lungs while the hash was climbing up his nerves, taking hold of his dendrites and dulling them. His senses instantly relaxed, his eyes closed and with a shake of the head he found himself within the clouds.