We have just arrived to start exhibiting 'Ere be Dragons at the Dislocate festival. We are both feeling a bit jet-lagged and out of sorts. I was wedged in the central seats for the 11 hour flight and had continuous cramp most of the way. Anyway, self pity aside, we have checked into our hotel. I have tried the automated toilets of japanese reknown and can report that the service wash delivered to my backside, was curious, to say the least.
I have also discovered that smoking is only permitted in certain parts of the street. So I joined a huddle of salary men for a crafty fag next to a set of vending machines and an ashtray with this strange inscription. (You may have to click it and make it large to read it.)
If you still can't read it it says:
"Inhaled. Burned. Thrown Away. If it were anything other than a cigarette it would surely be crying.
Meet. Love. The End."
What does it all mean. I must rest to gather strength for social event this evening and stop puzzling over love affairs with giant cigarettes.