Smoke. Pigeons. Newspapers. Radio.
And it's all about my dad. And my weird logic that makes sense to me only.
Anyhow, I love smoke because I love my father.
And I get a pang in my heart whenever I see a vintage radio that my dad, a wonderful journalist, collects. It is his life. Broadcasting life. Broadcasting live.
Sounds beautiful, natural & gratifying. What a wonderful profession to have.
If only things were that easy where he lives....
Still, my dear father, people who love you are on the same wavelength with you even when being on air is less & less fun...