Lovers of Absinth.

Or another sad story about alcohol. About love for pleasure and irresponsibility.
You probably thought that I was an old grump or some kind of bigot.
I am sure that a person lives for the sake of getting pleasure. This is his direct task. He is bathed in pleasure if he can afford it. Or he only dreams about it, not allowing himself to have this charm.
And it also happens that a person tasted some kind of pleasure and dissolved in it. He is happy, he has found the substance that he has been looking for all his life.
We should be happy for him because he is happy. But for some reason no one around him is happy. Especially those close to him.
And he alone remains on the crest of his wave, which carries him straight into the abyss.