I am an occasional smoker and it is a vice I practice in careful and controlled moderation. When I started smoking cigarettes thirty years ago I was aware of the risk and so I didn't inhale. That hasn't changed and I have smoked less each year but there is something comforting and wonderful about the taste of smoke in my mouth. A friend told me years ago that for him the sight of his "exposed breath rising to heaven" was one of his secret joys and I heartily agree. I moved from cigarettes to cigars after a short time then fifteen years ago I became a pipe smoker. My grandfather had been a pipe smoker and I recall being fascinated by the pipe racks around his home and the pipes that occupied them. I find pipes to be beautiful works of design as well as practical tools. The tactile sensation of a sand blasted brier or carved meerschaum in my hand as it grows warm from use never looses its appeal. Today is cold and rainy, weather particularly perfect for a pipe. A pipe for me unlike anything else is also an instrument that inspires contemplation. The risk brought on from occasional use seems a fair trade for the pleasures that result.
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