its one of the more interesting phenomena in life when one of your senses overwhelms you in nostalgia, contempt or passion to the point of not being able to function or speak. where you simply have to stop every other process of attention except that one. Im thinking smell, specifically. what i know is Ill be sitting somewhere, thinking something, and the perfume my best friend wore on a Saturday in June is suddenly the essence of my mind, in every corner of my brain and I didnt even know that I noticed what perfume she was wearing until that moment in a library when some girl saunters past with coach poppy trailing from her wrists. what i mean is the day Im in a dance class next to a boy and we practice steps with precision, his arm resting on my hip. Im close to his neck and all at once I am aware he uses the same aftershave as another boy 2000 miles away. and suddenly I dont want his arm or to practice steps anymore because a little ways down the road, up a flight of stairs and though a door theres a bottle of oldspice on his bathroom counter. what im getting at here is the electricity in the smell of a season somewhere in water; summer in the river by your house, autumn in the 7am showers you take before school, winter in the melted snow along the lining of your mittens, spring in the hose you use to wash mud off your dog. what i want you to know is that the washing-over, the temperature that pulses under your skin is all evoked from a lullaby your mother sang when you were still swaddleable, the feeling of a shitty wool sweater your brother wore on christmas, the color your room was painted; splotchy pink, the taste of half melted dashboard girl scout cookies, machine made hot chocolate that brings you back to ski-school. Its such a trip.
Posted on: Wed, 19 Nov 2014 01:37:40 +0000
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