Clouds Of Smoke… The Story. Gianluigi Ciaramellari
and how he spent his Sunday mornings.
Sonia gazed at the first and last floor of the building; she saw two windows with closed blinds. At first it seemed strange that she instinctively compared the two closed windows with the closed shutter of the shop, as if they were connected with each other. She remembered Massimo, who the night before told her “Damien spends the night in there!” For a moment, a thought crossed her mind and made her guess that Damien lived there.
It lasted a second, in fact. She didn’t think it was important. However, wherever Damien lived, she doubted that at ten o’clock in the morning, he could still be sleeping. He didn’t seem like a guy who sleeps in on Sunday. He was probably out, taking a walk. Or he was at home, with his wife and children. Maybe even his grandchildren. Could he be a grandfather?
“What are you thinking of?” Giorgio asked.
“About Damien”, Sonia said, without taking her eyes off the two windows.
“Who is Damien?” Asked Giorgio nervously.
“He’s the owner of this shop. A very exceptional man”. Sonia said with conviction.
Too much conviction for Giorgio, who at first was curious, then became grumpy.
“An exceptional man. What does that mean? What’s so exceptional in a man that sells electronic cigarettes? He’s a tobacconist 2.0! That’s what he is!”
“Okay, you’ll explain it to me later” Giorgio said, starting to pedal again.
“Come on Giogiò! He’s twenty years older than me, he could be my father!” Sonia mocked him, starting to ride her bike, too.
Part six (the pace of time)
Not every day is lived with the same emotional intensity; not necessarily does every day give us a particular event to be kept in mind. Every day is unique, another gift to our existence, but only some of them are really significant, or sometimes just a few rare moments of the day, or even just one moment on a certain day which can change our fate.
What you are reading is a story, told in the past, as it will also be read by someone in the distant future. It’s not the diary of someone in particular. Here you read a story that has its own rhythm. The rhythm is given by important events, or at least considered as such, that happened over time. This story has a rhythm, such as a music sheet of a song: within it you won’t find all the music arrangements, not even all the words in a dictionary; there are the notes that are needed, the right pauses, and the right words.
This story has the same rhythm that we give our lives, beating the rhythm to every true emotion.
Damien's shop was one of the most popular of its kind in Florence. VAPE, however, had not yet been recognized as a viable alternative to traditional cigarettes; it wasn’t advertised. Following the laws in force for tobacco products, the tobacco lobby made strong pressure on the Government to ensure that the e-cigs didn’t get good publicity.
The financial laws of the year 2014, furthermore, brought the entire sector onto its knees, because of the taxation on inhalation liquids, regardless of whether they contain nicotine or not. The tax which weighed on the liquids was so high that many of those who were willing to switch to electronic smoke gave up.
Therefore, as a result of the false and alarming information given by the media, and because of the rise in the price of the liquids up to twice their initial cost, the closures of electronic cigarette stores multiplied with the same extent and speed with which they had opened two or three years earlier.
As if all this wasn’t enough, the e-cig market wasn’t controlled by the municipal “neighbourhood” rules. In the same street of a small province, you could find the signs of two if not three VAPE shops.
The uncontrolled openings of these stores, one next to the other, were due to the fact that there were vacant shops in abundance due to the strong economic crisis that was crossing the country and the prices of rent had lowered significantly.
The boom of the electronic cigarettes, and the low initial investment needed to open this type of activity, encouraged people to reinvent a new job, for they could start with a very low amount of money; sometimes the money resulting from a severance pay. For all these reasons, several shops were run by incompetent staff or improvised traders.
Damien instead kept up well. His shop wasn’t in plain sight for it was located in an unfrequented suburban street; however, whoever came across it came back and spread the voice. Even in a big city rumours get around. Maybe they take a little longer to reach those interested, however, sooner or later they do.
Damien’s customers became regulars and whether they purchased or not, it was indifferent to him, for he already had a lot of money, (and a lot!). But he didn’t show it off. Damien wasn’t the type who liked to flaunt his wealth. He lived a private life, home and shop, as they say in these cases.
He hardly ever left his environment, which was composed of the neighbourhood in which he had settled since he came to Italy.
When he left his area, he went very far away from it. He returned to Tunis, to visit his family. Every summer he went back for at least a month.
Thus, also during that summer of August 2015, Damien closed the shop for the summer holidays, wished Giovanni a nice vacation, gave him a conspicuous cash bonus and left him the house keys.
Even with his customers he behaved like the gentleman he was. Already starting in July he had begun giving away small gifts like bottles of good wine, t-shirts and caps with the store logo. Therefore Clouds of smoke was being carried on tour throughout Italy and this made him happy.
From April to the end of July, Massimo and Sonia visited the store more frequently and often the two happened to meet in the store. They both seemed to consume their e-liquids in the same time period. Furthermore, Massimo had taken a mnemonic note of the days and hours in which Sonia attended the store. Whenever they met in the store, they both were visibly happy. It was a chance for them to chat, exchange their vape experiences, recommend what liquid to buy and talk about many things. Massimo was a Surveyor, Sonia was an Architect and the passion for their work, their many common notions, was their point of contact.
Once, towards the end of May, Damien gave Massimo a small VAPE lesson. He was grateful, not so much for having learned the right way to puff an electronic cigarette, but for having guessed the right way to attract a girl’s interest, and Sonia was the girl he wanted to attract with a great passion.
“You see, Massimo, - Damien said to him one morning during a VAPE lesson - the electronic cigarette must be puffed with a certain method. It’s not a burning tobacco roll. You probably also learned to puff cigarettes the right way, so they wouldn’t turn it into a fireball that couldn’t be smoked! You must also learn to master the electronic smoke, which in the end is only steam.”
“Teach me, Damien, - asked Massimo, as if he were addressing a master of martial arts - I want to know all the secrets of the e-cigs. I want to become an expert like you!”
Damien looked at him smiling, with those eyes that Massimo felt like a paternal pat on his head:
“All right, then listen to me. With this tool it’s important to learn the rhythm of the puffing time. The pause between a puff and the other must not be too long or too short. It’s up to you if you want to take a lot of puffs during a VAPE session, or just a few. You have to give the resistance time to glow enough to atomize the liquid in order to savour its aroma. You must then give it time to cool, before taking a second puff; you have to let it unwind. Then you can puff, long but gently, without haste; and you will see a lot of steam coming out of your mouth.”
These words reminded Massimo of Sonia. While he tried to inhale, release the steam, waited to puff again, he thought that even with women he had always used the wrong method. He was being too pushy. He was trying to “pull” her to him too fast. He needed to learn the right timing, a steady pace but precise and constant, like a drop falling on a rock, day after day, year after year, until it digs a hole in the hard stone. He wanted to dig a