If my nose were cut off
I would have no memories.
When I have lain awake all night
and my eyes are finally closing
I’ll get a whiff of something far off,
from another year,
another county ...
Sometimes there are only smells:
the smell of chickens;
the smell of Miss Finch’s stale breath
and the hard candies by her bed,
peppermint,
all stuck together with the heat of her house;
the smell of Matt’s math books
where you crack the bindings, they’re so new;
the smell of May in the kitchen
frying the onions.
Jane Hamilton, The Book of Ruth
On my wall!
 |
| The Smell of Freshly Cut Grass Itching at My Nose 24 x 48"; acrylic, charcoal, pencil, oil pastel, and collage on canvas abstract landscape 2020 |
