Cigarettes and god's heads.

In ancient Rome and Greece, they thought that Gods ate smoke and incense, or rather survived off them. Animals ate each other in a cannibalistic sort of fashion, and humans came in between; we cook but we're no ethereal beings, we have to eat something. Between gods and beasts, some might say.

Maybe this is why, every time I smoke my weekly cigarette, I feel like a god. It's due tomorrow. It's something of the smoke, of the ether at least. I wonder what it's like to survive on nectar and smoke. Spiralling foods.


A tacky purple lighter and a half crushed packet of cigarettes seem light years away from the hellenic era, though.