Ah! Camarade! Ce monde n’est je vous l’assure qu’une immense enterprise a se foutre du monde!
I’m waiting for Arletty, the star of French poetic realism. I like to imagine her with a cigarette in her hand. That star generation of true-blue smokers. A brave and fierce generation, the envy of our dwarfed race. Even today, in the time of anti-smoking tyrants and terrorists, a generation that would have bravely puffed, disdainful and proud, straight into the face of the anti-smoking inquisition.
Show me how you smoke and I’ll tell you who you are, one could say.