A whiff tickles my nostril hairs and dances down into my throat. A taste. Tinge or so of ash and fume, cloudy remnants, grainy shards. I listen. Deep heavy air. Colours encircled. I watch. It’s beautiful. Hazy glares clustered hues dispersing slowly piercing air. It’s a mass. Now no more. There’s smoke in the air. I feel it taste it and watch it dance. Strangely dense yet so light rising stretching flowing and floating. It’s paralysing. This smoke in the air. Now dancing in my throat.