Creatures of habit.
  From pre-historic man stamping trails to the necessaries; water, food, shelter, in the timeless pursuit of ease and convenience. To todays endless loop of rush hour traffic.
  The same stoplights and the same bumpers.  Mixing it up by leaving a little early to stop at the same shop to get the same donut and chocolate milk.
  Checking my pack for 2 smokes for the breaks and 3 for lunch, as I light one for the walk to the door of the assembly plant. 6 days every week to surrender 10 hours to perpetual monotony.
  Until something gives out.  And the prescription that the doctor gave you to keep you productive, to ease the pain, to keep you steady, runs out. In desperation you see your only options as suffering or self medicating with poisons that will, at best, condemn you to a lifetime of incarceration, and at worst, death.  
  Leaving your body to rot while you soul awakens in a Hell much worse than the one you left behind.
  In a back alley two doors down from the funeral parlor of an old mining town in the evening shade of the tallest mountain in the Missouri Ozarks, there is a door.
  A portal to a world free of routines, rituals, and habit formations.  Step through. No Smoking.
     ![FB_IMG_1512710913338.jpg](https://steemitimages.com/DQmNdDQZ5ncYy5BQpH3v3iDsUc8c3FE1kpxnVFfnKTExKsX/FB_IMG_1512710913338.jpg)

  This image is one of my first in the digital format. Taken years ago and kept alive by downloading it from social media. Not the first time, ive gotten better at filing and saving.
  Ive found using this as a background helps in the daily battle against any vice.
   To the memory of olden days with my friend, Adam.