Day 1373
There’s a particular satisfaction to scraping resin from an old pipe at dawn—the quiet ritual of it, working the paperclip or knife tip into the bowl’s crevices, coaxing out those tarry flecks. When you finally inhale and feel it creep into your skull, there’s a small victory in it. You’ve made something from nothing. The sun’s barely up, the world’s still quiet and you’re wearing that charismatic pair of DoDo socks again.
Happy Thanksgiving!
