incense sticks
Hot air rises. When something is burnt the ensuing smoke floats upwards. We’ve known about it since our earliest science lessons, but still when I see smoke rise it has a delicate magic. It rises, it vanishes and my imagination drifts along with it.
This man wears two hats, sensible hats, protective hats. He raises a scaffold to fix a roof. He is undoubtedly a practical man, but he wears his hats stacked and I imagine them rising ever higher, until they vanish like the smoke.
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