Curate, connect, and discover
Smoked a half a cigarette that I found on the ground yesterday, and then my head started hurting. feeling like hamlet in the final scene
O, I die, Horatio; / The potent poison of the ground cigarette quite o'er-crows my spirit: / I cannot live to hear the news from England; But I do prophesy the election lights / On ground cigarette: he has my dying voice; / So tell him, with the occurrents, more and less, / Which have solicited. The rest is silence.