Growing up around chain-smoking uncles, grand uncles and grand fathers, I am very familiar with the smell of tobacco and stale smoke. They form a part of my childhood memories.
Back in the day, second hand smoke was not quite as sacrilegious as it is now. It was out of deference to elders that a smoker took his business outside the house. The patriarch had no reason to do so. A chain smoking grandfather in the middle of the living room full of non smoking people was an accepted norm.
Having seen quite a few styles of holding a cigarette and blowing smoke into the air, the semiotics of smoking naturally piqued my curiosity. Reading this was more entertaining than enlightening and rather nostalgic.
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