“Franco, my kind Italian upstairs neighbor, just came by and knocked on the door. Some of my mail had been delivered to his box by mistake. I asked him if he thought smoking with sex was different for men than for women. He said no, but he doesn’t speak perfect English. Then he confessed how much he hates smoking and wishes he could stop, like me. I smiled. But that’s easy, I told him. You can stop right here, right now. Just give me all the cigarettes you have left, and then you can forget about it. For some reason lost in translation, he thought I was joking and left me standing in the doorway, empty-handed.”—Linda Yablonsky, “Diary of a Nicotine Queen”
Chris Bronsk 