However, every woman who smokes may be lonely, and cigarettes are lonely.
Cigarettes are a kind of loneliness filling, filling loneliness with loneliness and filling emptiness with emptiness.
Among women who smoke, some women writers can be forgiven. They need cigarettes to inspire. Just like Balzac in France, you must smell rotten apples when writing. Sometimes because of the fascination with writing, the cigarette in her hand has long ash, and she didn't find it. Ash fell and landed on her pants.
However, every woman who smokes is lonely.
They are also lonely. Smoke a lonely cigarette in the middle of the night, write some lonely words and sell them to the same lonely soul.
Tobacco was originally a plant, but it died after being picked. Now, through the faint red flame, I am alive. However, living will be reduced to ashes. Its first life is green, its second life is brown and its third life is dark red.
A woman is a plant at first, but then her feelings are hurt and her heart is dead. Now, through another weak love in the body, it has come back to life. However, separation is eternal, women love and hurt, and their hearts are dying. A woman's first love is green, her second love is brown, and her third love is crimson.
In fact, women have a deep relationship with cigarettes.
She will remember people who have given up smoking, like this, and then put her finger on her lips to imitate gracefully.
She will remember the brand of cigarettes that people who have left like to smoke, and ask the clerk if there is this kind in the misty rain.
She will remember the vague smell of smoke, smell it on the bus, and walk a long way home because she missed the stop.
She will carefully put the empty cigarette case into the drawer. Some people and events are just her memorials.
She would get up in the middle of the night, light a cigarette, not smoke, and look at the red cigarette butts. Just for nostalgia ~ ~ ~
Men don't like women smoking, they don't know.
There is a story behind every woman who smokes.