Clouds Of Smoke… The Story

Part nine (leaves in the wind)

That Saturday afternoon, there had been a lot of VAPE users and beginners at the Clouds of smoke store. Regulars always liked to laze in the store a little more than on other days, to chat with each other and with the owner. Damien enjoyed offering them useful tips and demonstrations on the use of the various systems, spiced up with ironic jokes and wisecracks. In short, the atmosphere was always cheerful and time passed unnoticed.

Some customers even regretted having to go back home, after all, they enjoyed Damien’s company; he was a friend, they could tell him all about their lives and he listened with an unlimited patience and curiosity. He treasured everything they told him as if it was a gift. Someone once said to another customer: “This man knows how to listen with so much attention that you expect him to ask you how much he owes you, for what you have given him”.

However, many of his customers wondered if Damien was indeed a happy man. This was not a question they could ask him, it was written in Braille on his hand. If he handed you his hand, even though you didn’t know how to read the dots of that code, the physical contact with him it was enough to for him to get his message across: “Welcome to my house, but don’t ask me how much I paid it!”.

By the way, Damien’s home was big, cosy, warm and full of beautiful antique items, sometimes mixed together with modern pieces.

It reflected his soul, his manners and his qualities. Few people had had the privilege of being invited to that home. Those who had been there, at least once, longed to have the same, some day.

Likewise, his personality was also full of assets, such as kindness, cheerfulness, wisdom, a keen sensitivity to visual arts and music.

In the shop he loved to play jazz, blues and classic melodic music discreetly in the background.

On the walls of the shop he displayed posters of old black and white movies and 50s and 70s colour movies; on certain shelves he placed some comic strips such Alan Ford, Tex Willer, Mickey Mouse and the Italian cartoon Tiramolla.

There was no lack of magazines on topics such as science, politics and economy, resting on a colourful wooden plank, from time to time updated with new issues. Damien had decorated the shop with recycled materials and industrial furniture, revised and adapted to a different use and better suited to the needs of his business. The solid wood counter came from the atelier of a retired tailor; looking at it, one could imagine that craftsman, unrolling measures of precious materials onto it, while he cleverly scissor cut the square footage that the lady in turn chose, following the expert’s advice.

When Damien suggested a vape cigarette or a liquid, he perfectly replicated the precision of the tailor to whom the counter had belonged, as if he had also inherited his soul.

The store was beautiful. It was so for new customers and it looked more and more beautiful to those who returned there, because every time they were surprised to discover strange objects that had nothing to do with the items for sale. There was a display case dedicated to small items, souvenirs for friends and family.

If Damien’s store was his business card, his house was his curriculum vitae and the world exhibition of his trophies...

That Saturday night, as many other times, it was late. Usually at seven-thirty, Damien pulled down the shutter, whereas that night it was past eight o’clock and inside the store were still two customers: Massimo and Sonia.

Massimo had returned to stock up on liquids; it was already the third time he came back on a Saturday. A bottle of ten millilitres of liquid lasted only three days; therefore he bought at least two at a time.

Sonia, instead, returned that afternoon, following her morning visit. Damien had sold her an electronic cigarette complete with cord to carry it around her neck, while Sonia would have preferred a small pouch to store it in her handbag, so she decided to return to the store to make that second purchase. That’s how the two of them met by chance in the shop and Damien was happy to present them to each other.

At first, Massimo seemed rather intimidated by Sonia’s beauty; luckily Damien was able to act as a link between them, involving both in the matters that were brought up during that late afternoon in the store, also encompassing the other customers.

Damien asked Massimo what how he felt about using the steam cigarette and Sonia was very interested in his experience, therefore, from a simple question and answer, he started a conversation between several people that lasted until the evening, and by then they felt at ease in speaking to each other.

When Damien noticed that the two of them already got along well together, although he had just presented them, he was reminded of a scene that he’d already seen several times, during his Sunday walks in the tree-lined streets, particularly in the fall. He had observed a fallen leaf on the ground that was being carried away by a gust of wind, until it reached another leaf that was very far from it, and then, a small whirlwind, suddenly created by the atmospheric conditions, sent the two leaves dancing in a circle, and eventually they fell to the ground, sometimes overlapping each other.

It wasn’t essential for those two leaves to be of the same kind or the same size. It was irrelevant how and why they had fallen off the tree, or if they had fallen from different trees. Also irrelevant was their colour and shape. The small whirlwind took them both and lifted them from the ground and, although one of them was blown sideways, while the other was blown from below, they both received the same force to which they resisted in different ways, still meeting at the same height, on the same level.

Just like those two leaves, Massimo and Sonia met, spoke to each other, jumping from one subject to another, then they said goodbye to Damien, who could finally close the store.

Once they left the store and had already walked a few steps away from it, Massimo stopped to looked back at the store and saw that he was lowering the shutter.

“Sonia, wait a minute. - He said to the girl who was still at his side, who also turned to look back - See? Damien closed the store but he’s still inside!”

“Of course, - she said – he said he had to finish his accounting, tidy up and check his stocks.”

“Okay, - said Massimo - but last Saturday I stopped out here to talk to another customer of his, we were out here for at least a half hour, yet he didn’t come out. In my opinion, - Massimo’s tone became suspicious - Damien will spend the night in there!”

Sonia was baffled by Massimo’s words. However she wanted to support him and decided to wait a little longer to see if he was right.

They waited another twenty minutes, chatting about this and that and keeping an eye on the store, mainly keeping their eyes on the thin line of light shining from under the shutter.

After a while the light went off and they waited for the shutter to be raised and for Damien to come out. Instead no one came out. They waited another five minutes, looking at each other drawing their lips and chin together in an expression that in Italy means “beats me!”

Sonia finally decided to go home; she decided to order a pizza. She said goodbye to Massimo, so he shrugged and went on his way, still wondering about that strange behaviour.

Part ten (closing time)

Damien turned off the store lights from the switches in the rear of the hall, near the small bathroom, which he sometimes let his customers use, if needed.

He pressed his hand against a specific point of the mirror frame, which was attached to the wall at the end of the hallway. After a few seconds, something snapped from behind the mirror and this opened as a door.

“Good evening Damien – Giovanni greeted him, still holding his hand on the handle of the door which was a mirror on one side and a walnut door on the other – you had to work overtime again tonight?”

“Yes Giovanni, the last customers just left, Massimo and Sonia”.

“I know, I saw them. I followed everything from the kitchen monitors, while I was preparing dinner.”

Giovanni proceeded to open the faucets of the hot tub that was encased in a stone base, about one metre high from the ground, surrounded by scented candles which had already been lit.

“Dinner will be ready in thirty minutes. – Giovanni informed him, handing Damien a bathrobe and flip-flops and while heading towards the kitchen, he added – Massimo and Sonia seemed glad to meet each other!”

“Right! - Damien answered as he undressed - Between the two of them, Massimo was the happiest! Ahahahahahahahahaha!” And he let out a big laugh.

The walls of the room with the hot tub were made of stone; the ceiling was clad with beams, the floor around the tub in terracotta tiles and on a wall in front of the bath tub was a fake fireplace, one of those with a LED screen that makes that typical play of light of a burning fire.

This room opened onto a living room with coloured plastered walls, with sides in contrasting colours between them, and spot lights in the plasterboard ceiling. The play of light, very striking, created a warm and friendly environment in the winter and a cool one in the summer. The air conditioners were also recessed into the walls and not noticeable, being masked by fans of the same colour as the walls.

From the living room you could access the kitchen through a large opening in the dividing wall, panelled in wood. On one side of the room, in front of the bath tub, an iron and wooden staircase led to the upper floor, where there were two double bedrooms, two cloakrooms and two bathrooms.

A third bathroom, a guest bathroom, was between the kitchen and the dining room. From a window wall in the living room, one could see the garden, covered by a large pergola on which were woven red vine leaves, which blocked the view of the garden to the surrounding neighbours.

The house was a villa built in the 40s, who had undergone several renovations and some expansions, but which, however, over time had been surrounded and then hidden by more recent buildings, which now conformed to the urban facade of the outskirts of Florence. The shop was once the coach house of the villa, then it became its garage, then a laboratory and finally the business premises that had had more than one sign and type of business.

Just above the floor of Damien's shop, on the first and last floor, was his faithful and inseparable butler Giovanni’s bedroom.

A second entrance, (second only for Damien, because he hardly ever used it), was in the garden, a small gate between two columns in polished stone and on which were engraved two letters, one per column, "D" and "G".

Once a guest told Damien that the two letters reminded him of the initials of two famous Italian designers.

The two columns also served to support an iron truss that was part of the pergola structure above the garden. The gate was of wrought iron, and the iron bars drew a series of squares, from the largest to the smallest, one inside the other.

Every night, after closing, Damien allowed himself a bath in the hot tub, letting his skin be pampered by the warm water and bubbles while listening to the music coming from the wired wireless, with speakers distributed in all the rooms. In order to completely relax, he loved to vape with his big battery while he was soaking in the water, usually preferring citrus aromas rather than tobacco. He had commissioned Giovanni, who was a man of great manual talents, a cherry wood cube in which he kept, perfectly fitted, a series of big batteries and atomizers already filled with liquids of various flavours. He always kept this cube near the bath tub, stuck in a customized recess, so that it couldn’t overturn accidentally.

That Saturday night Damien seemed very amused, Giovanni could hear him laughing as if someone was telling hilarious jokes and from the kitchen, he could not help but echo his laughter, for it was very contagious.

After a while, he realized that he was the only one laughing and he started worrying about Damien and went to check in on him, finding his friend with his whole body immersed in the bath, with only his head out, rested on the edge, his arms relaxed on sides, eyes closed, the big battery placed in the cube.

The whirlpool had been switched off.

Giovanni returned to the kitchen, made sure to cover the dishes he had prepared, took a book and sat down near the tub, waiting for Damien to awaken.

A few minutes later, what Giovanni was expecting to come about happened, he looked up from the book he was reading and saw Damien open his mouth and say:

“It’s all right, everything is under control”.

Part one (Damien’s power - introduction)

When Damien woke up from his sleep, he realized it was very late, being able to clearly see the pendulum at the end of the living room. The table in wild pear wood, placed in front of the large window, had been set. The courses were generally served without a tablecloth; Damien liked the feel of the natural wood under his hands. It was a table long enough to comfortably accommodate ten people, five in front of another five and it was always set with no one at the head of the table, (Damien believed that every diner was equal). It had been given to him by one of his dear friends from Armenia, to whom he had done a great favour.

Damien always sat viewing the garden covered by the pergola. Giovanni sat on the opposite side and, if Damien was on the right, Giovanni sat on the left. That evening, Giovanni had already dined and was only waiting for his friend to have a seat so he could serve him dinner.

The whole house had been renovated and furnished according to a meticulous design made by Damien. Every detail had a precise function and its own meaning. The most important elements of life were all represented in the house. Water, fire, earth, air and... The sacred.

The final element was represented by many well-placed objects, representing a particular religious belief. Damien respected each of these objects, but he didn’t worship them. He knew their origin, history, meaning, and mystical power.

A large chandelier in Murano glass, hung over the dining area, made up of thousands of crystal droplets which sparkled with wonderful colourful effects. This was also a gift from another friend and anyhow, the whole house was full of objects sent to Damien from all over the world, donated by people who had received great favours from him.

The presence of these objects, some small but very valuable, others large and useful rather than precious, and all reminded Damien of the people they had belonged to and why they had been given to him. He was surrounded, in every corner of the house, by “the soul” of the person who had separated himself from that object.

They represented the spirit of sincere gratitude of the people he had helped.

If Damien could help someone, he asked in return for something that they were particularly fond of, that normally they would never give up. He never asked for money. This never. Damien had so much money at his availability, you couldn’t even imagine how much! His family owned some oilfields in Tunisia and he was also a major shareholder of an energy company. However he didn’t care to live in luxury. Certainly he had a beautiful home, but still it was just a small villa in Florence and not even in the centre. He had chosen to run a shop, selling items which at that time were met with fierce criticism by the tobacco lobby and as a result, he was burdened with very high taxation, as a deterrent. But whenever the road was difficult and uphill, Damien loved to tackle it, well aware of his extraordinary abilities and endowed by a particular power following a dramatic event.

So for Damien, the store was merely a façade.

He immediately fell for electronic cigarettes, as soon as they appeared on the Western market. His family used to smoke the hookah, rather than cigars or cigarettes. His grandfather was a pipe smoker and at home, Damien had many of them, inherited by the great old man.

Whenever Damien watched them, he remembered his grandfather who, while smoking them, deep in thought, began to speak in metaphors, stating some of the biggest truths of life Damien had ever heard.

As a child, he believed that his grandfather drew that wisdom from the aspiration of those pipes. For this reason he liked to think that these pipes were still impregnated with knowledge, wisdom and other virtues. Every now and then in the evening, when he felt drained of energy, he went to smell their scent; he stored them all in a large handmade terracotta bowl.

Damien stepped out of the tub. His robe was placed on a small reproduction of a Romanesque column with white marble of Carrara capitals, placed near the floor of the tub. Damien’s body, naked, next to that column seemed the body of a gladiator. As he slipped on the dark bronze colour terry kimono, his movements showed off the muscles of his biceps and triceps, dorsal muscles, even his pectorals were well-defined and proportionate.

He trained his body every morning with the exercise equipment that he kept in the large wooden room in the garden, part of which he used as a sauna. He took care of his body and, although he had turned fifty-four years old a few months earlier, he had a youthful physique and smooth skin. The brown colour of his complexion, made it appear even more elastic than it already was.

He slipped on his leather flip-flops, walked to the table, while Giovanni was bringing in a tray of appetizers. It was Saturday night, so he deserved a special treatment.

Damien’s chair, among the five arranged on one side and the other of the table, was the one with the highest backrest and with the armrests, carved from a master wood craftsman, who had made it look like a throne, with a seat made of padded crocodile skin. Of course, it was at the centre of the table. He used this throne only when he dined without guests and without Giovanni. Otherwise he sat on the same chair as the others.

The times he dined alone were always important and special moments. At last he could give all his attention to food and drinks, without having to focus his senses towards his guests, which assumed the most important role, and he entrusted Giovanni with the cooking responsibilities.

Did I already mention that “guest” in Damien’s home was a rare word? In fact he didn’t often have guests over. Those who had been fortunate enough to have been invited into that house didn’t tell anyone about it. As it was also true that, if he did you a favour, you "really” had to give him in return something that you were really fond of.

Once someone tried to give him something trivial, or something that he could give up easily. But he still remembers the price he had to pay. Damien was strict and adamant on this point. He only helped people who agreed to his conditions: they had to give up their dearest possession. Anyway, they were only things.

The exchange consisted in “objects” one gave in return. But no money and no real estate.

All the people Damien helped couldn’t possibly reveal it to others.

Otherwise their problem would immediately resurface and more intensely. Damien always warned about this. He did even more: he gave them signals.

Whenever the people who were being helped felt the intimate need to talk about it to someone, they immediately felt weak and devoid of force, so exhausted they almost felt faint. This phenomenon was a good warning that his powers worked well.

However, his power had a limit. This limit was potentially inborn in the person with whom he interfaced. This person had to be receptive. Damien had, let’s say, a sort of “frequency”; if a person was prepared to capture it, then his power was effective. Otherwise Damien appeared to be just a very charming person and full of resources, one of those people that one rarely encounters. That's all.

Part two (Damien’s power)

Giovanni, in addition to being an excellent cook, knew how to shop. “There was no doubt about that!” Damien seemed to confirm, while savouring the appetizer with grilled vegetables and white grape risotto. Giovanni was seventy years old, ten of which he spent at the service of an upper class Florentine family and ten in Damien’s home. The lengthy cohabitation of the two had consolidated a relationship of respect and mutual trust, and the knowledge of each other’s taste. If Giovanni hadn’t met Damien, maybe he would have lived in solitude. When he was fifty years old, he lost his wife, who was the only love of his life, in a car accident in which he also lost his right foot. He wore a prosthesis and walked with a considerable claudication, but he found a tangible help in Damien. However, Damien could only help him in the form of a job offer. Damien’s power had no effect on Giovanni.

Between the two of them there was a great conspiracy, sometimes all they needed was a gesture, even the slightest, to communicate something. Their friendship turned into brotherhood. It was as if the thoughts of one were always intercepted by the other. They couldn’t hide anything from each other. There were no secrets between them. Not even if they tried. And neither of them would have wanted to keep a secret from the other.

While Damien dined, Giovanni was in a corner of the kitchen which he had equipped with a bench dedicated to the preparation of the VAPE liquids. In a small cupboard were crammed several bottles of bases containing glycerine and glycol with or without nicotine and little bottles of various concentrations of aromas to be diluted.

Giovanni often experienced new tastes, by mixing aromas together and he always created excellent products ready to be vaporized, which invariably met the taste of his friend or that of some “special” customer.

Once prepared, he bottled them, each with its own hand written label. That night he created a special bottle and named it “Ainòs”. While closing the cabinet, he saw the label’s reflection on the door and smiled.

Damien looked up from his plate and looked out the window door in front of him, the one that led into the garden. What he saw would have scared another person to death.

He rested his elbows on the table, folded his hands, rested his chin on them and he kept his serene and steady gaze on the eyes of Chopin, his black cat, who was sitting on a stool on the other side of the window, stretching his front paws, with eyes that asked: “Please open up and give me a some kibbles!”.

They looked at each other for a minute. Damien tilted his head to one side and Chopin imitated him, then he waved him “hello” and Chopin imitated him, then he raised his paw as if to knock on the glass. Finally Damien got up and opened the window to let him in.

“Chopin! All day long you stray away, and then you slowly come back at the end of the day! Come in and have yourself a comfortable stay!”

The cat didn’t need to be told twice, he appreciated the rhymes, he jumped in and sat under Damien’s chair, who sat back down at the table, and handed him a bowl of kibbles.

Every evening Chopin came back home at that hour. For the whole day he was out in the company of his stray friends with whom he grew up. Giovanni found him wheezing on the ground, with a strong rhinotracheitis, so he brought him to Damien, who healed him with his power.

Giovanni showed up at the house with the cat, a few years ago and all his friend had to do was to touch him to heal him.

Every time it happened to him he felt that same sensation. Giovanni called it a “tinglingstab”. A tingling in his right or left hand, depending on which of the two touched the other person, and it almost began to vibrate.

Damien felt as if he had a nest of ants under the skin of his hand which woke up from a long sleep and began to move frantically, trying to get out of his body. Then felt a stabbing of sharp needles. And the stronger his receptiveness of the other person was, the stronger those stabs became. It was a feeling that would have made others scream in pain. Not Damien. He was used to it, since he was a boy.