The Real 420

coke bag
Holding a bag of coca leaves like life depends on it, on the back of some pick-up UTE in Northern Argentina’s highlands

What I really like about weed though is that more often than not, it’s when I’m high the I undergo these almost-childish, but profound moments; where every thing in the world finally makes sense. When everything says ‘yup this is how it is and we are not supposed to make sense to you all so why don’t ya’ll go and shove that I-Need-To-Explain-And-Understand-Everything attitude where the sun don’t shine?’

That’s the only reason I need weed.

Ah, And also because…

                                                                                  ****

Part 2 soon to come.
Written after a spliff shared between three people.

All fairly old hands in the game. All can take a puff.
Estimated level of highness on the scale of “1-promiseland”: 3


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