Just the mere thought of smoking opium sets my mind adrift on a sea of pleasure. The slow burn...the incense like smell...the luxurious high. It has been close to ten years since I last smoked opium. I miss it. The smoke is so light and delightful. I miss spiking my clove cigarettes with a small amount and smoking them in crowds of people or in front of the police. I miss smoking the nectar of a flower. I miss being connected through time by a trail of languid smoke to a rich lineage of painters, poets, princes, artists, and addicts. I wish I had an opium den bed and a supple topless Asian woman to load my pipe. I miss chasing the dragon. Damn I miss smoking opium. And to think I was just standing in the kitchen washing the dishes.