1987.

You were not a smoking person, in fact you did it very little. But, there was something I loved doing—Sharing a cigarette with Izzy.

You didn't know what the intentions were for those shared cigarettes, but you loved them. You always thought about those moments, they shared more than just a cigarette—They shared a feeling. The action of looking at nothing and at the same time everything while talking about things in life with someone you adore was beautiful for you.

You could doodle, talk, write about it, etc., but you always mention how much you like those moments and always repeat them when you can.

You were having one of those moments, smoking a cigarette—You had already gotten used to the taste of tobacco, Izzy looked at you funny as it gave him tenderness and laughter as you concentrated on not coughing when smoking.

—"I still don't understand why you want to smoke with me when you don't even know how to smoke..."

He told you, leaning towards you and arranging your hand so that you could take the cigarette correctly.

—"It's done like this... I don't even know why I'm teaching you to smoke, I must be an example of shit..."