Chain Smokers Union

July 27, 2000


In the background a weeping willow weeps while three Frenchmen duck underwater timing themselves with a silver waterproof wristwatch.

They painted the green house white. In a sequence of ascending squares, most tend to descend into oblivion. The sounded warning of an up and coming train goes unnoticed as locals continue on across the tracks. Maybe it’s not so bad, and what a way to spend the day all gathered together with nothing to say. There is a philosophy shared here that deduces morality into non-existent, and cheating the concept of time by ignoring it. It is a chain-smokers union conveniently furnished and paid for by a landlord who charges nothing for rent.

Another afternoon spent watching Tony Hawk take a beating over and over again while the cloud of smoke thickens covering the room in whole.

Author: Lindsay Niemann

Writer | Graphic Artist