Long ago I read a story.
It is about a collection who are unemployed and their status may not
change. They have no
activity but have time. They spend day time playing cards. They don't have
money to make it
interesting they use matchsticks instead.
In a lonely abandoned bridge they gather in the evenings to straighten
their minds and enjoy
the emptiness of life and surroundings - dark starlit sky and earth
below.
They share the same cigarette passing it around - they have nothing else to
share.
In the dark, one of them brought out a cigarette and tried to lit the
same.
He tried with several match sticks but did not succeed.
Silence followed, then one spoke, "some among us is using match sticks with
mud tip."
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