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A beautiful smell
saxifrage flower
There is the most beautiful smell wafting in through the open window right now. It’s like distilled roses and the light of a hundred perfumed candles.

I love the visceral way that smell tickles the brain. I sense it, but it defies description. It’s like trying to describe the experience of red to someone blind from birth. Smell is the most direct route into the deep parts of the brain.

But, oh, is it frustrating to try to describe it. And when a smell triggers a memory so strongly that you feel as if you’re there again, but you can’t for the life of you remember where or when or what that memory is, except for the sensation of place, it is a most excruciating kind of pleasure and pain.

That beautiful smell is still drifting in. I think it’s coming from the apartment of the cute couple right above mine. It’s things like this that will make me miss living in an apartment building.

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Yeah. Lilacs are like that for me. I remember being a kid, imagining what a bumblebee must feel like when it is completely surrounded by flowers.


Smells that trigger good, but too deeply buried memories are really interesting. I always wish I could bottle them up and "look" at them more closely.

I have a strong sense of how "home" smells. My apartment has a certain smell (not stink or suchlike, just how the air smells when you come through the door), the house of my parents has such a smell and the house of Jan's parents. Having been for a long time at one of those places and returning to another or coming back to one of them from a long holiday and smelling this "home smell" gives me a feeling of belonging there.

Hee hee, you know how silly I get over stuff like this. Me who likes to take your dirty T-shirt on business trips with me because it smells like you!

Every time my parents or grandparents meet up with me while I'm in Ontario and bring me something from their place, the smell triggers all sorts of nostalgia. Especially the stuff from my grandparents' place. I'm not sure what that smell *is* but it's instantly recognizable.

Then there was the time that Hubby and I broke up for a while, and I opened a plastic bag containing some clothes or something from our old place, and it smelled like us -- ow. A beautiful smell, but in that context, so sad.

Me who likes to take your dirty T-shirt on business trips with me because it smells like you!

Oh yeah, I do that, too. When there is the rare occasion that I have to sleep a night alone, I take one of Jan's t-shirts or his favourite pillow.

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