the rusted smoke of a cigarette dribbling serenely through the night sky.

the ethereal chaos of liquid nitrogen, broiling and burning out of the canister moments after reducing a crisp, red rose into a thousand heartbroken pieces.

the quasi-panic of rising darkness pouring up from behind a hill or forest, before sweet relief at the discovery of a bonfire, a charcoal burner, a farmer in control.

the taste and smell of the steam from a lovers shower, squeezed under a closed door and ripe with coconut, blossom and promise.

the sick stomach and dry throat of a life’s pyre, the frantic searching for loved ones, the glass reduced to water.