A deeply submerged feeling of happiness that came over me afterward, on a square off the Canebiere where the rue Paradis opens onto a park, is more difficult to recall than everything that went before. Fortunately I find in my newspaper the sentence, “One should scoop sameness from reality with a spoon.” (…) I immersed myself in contemplation of the sidewalk before me, which, through a kind of unguent with which I glided over it, could have been — precisely as these very stones — also the sidewalk of Paris. One often speaks of stones instead of bread. These stones were the bread of my imagination, which was suddenly seized by a ravenous hunger to taste what is the same in all places and countries. Yet I thought with immense pride of sitting here in Marseilles in a hashish trance; of who else might be sharing my intoxication this evening, and of how few actually were. Of how I was incapable of fearing future misfortune, future solitude, for hashish would always remain.
Walter Benjamin, Hashish in Marseilles
I could read Benjamin’s stoned ramblings all day