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A man in his later years enjoys a cigar.
He holds a fat brown rolled stogie with his fingers to his lips.
He puckers at the end of the stimulating stump, pulling a large puff.
He lights his vice with a blow torch.
Blue, red, yellow flame jets out the end of a curved steel tube.
	
He is balding and grey with whiskers.
Puckering and squinting casually his skin reveals fine wrinkles.
A dark green frame with round clear lenses sets on a large triangular nose.
His clothes are plain: 
a button collar shirt with tiny blue checks, 
a dark blue puffed coat, a tan denim bib.
His hands are large with fingers like sausages.
He holds his cigar and torch like a gorilla enjoying fruit.

At times only a moment matters.
The best things in life are not always sophisticated.
Experience and simplicity allow senses to be the only luxury needed.
People relish their vices 
after youth and excess have revealed what is common and uninteresting.
It is the process of feeling what is familiar and different about the moment 
which drives people in later years to enjoy an awareness of their senses 
rather than any perception driven by language.

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