The pictures on the wall were blurred with time and cigarette smoke. Faded to the point of abstraction for those that glance at them now. Whereas these pictures actually meant something to someone at sometime. But those people have long passed through this space, this town, and possibly this life. We are left with their smoky intoxicated smiles beaming back at us as if these images were fragments of a mirror from our own past yet to come. I scan the faces in the bar and wonder how they will differ from those in the collage of alcohol, sweat and smiles.