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Passing Time

I used to be a smoker. Sitting at the table after a meal, sipping coffee in a coffee shop and waiting for something to happen, or just waiting for time to pass, I used to light a cigarette. I would inhale, watch the smoke curl, fiddle with the cigarette between my nicotine yellowed fingers. I stopped smoking many years ago, and since then, I've replaced this habit with fiddling with things. I doodle if there happens to be a pen or pencil at hand. But mostly, I tear, fold, mold, crush, and bend any given piece of paper, wire hanger, or aluminum foil. I arrange bread crumbs on the table. Anything. Sometimes I do this more creatively than others, but I have come to believe that this nervous habit is as valid a form of expression as any other.