Let me turn for a moment, my attention to the pregnant girl who was out smoking with us after the lecture.
The distance between her nose and her lips is a vast frontier with a wide valley running down the center. Every time I see her, that's all I can look at. My eyes go on a journey from her nostrils down the middle of that valley to her upper lip. It's such a long trip. At one point, you feel as if there's no end. Like driving through Montana.
The only thing that breaks the monotony is a pierced stud. When you see that chrome sphere on the horizon, your almost to her mouth which is a volcano of Newport Menthol smoke.
