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Weekly Contest #308
I am walking home in Midsummer and the warmth in the evening wind is impossible. And where I cross at the intersection I’m hit with a precise mix of aroma, warmth, and humidity that stops me in my tracks. What was it the wind carried on it that day that it brings to me now, again? Eucalyptus, dirt, and something unplaceable. The smell is fading. Nevertheless, I am already seized by the wind and taken back to that day in Midsummer eight years ago. Though the time had become as remote to me as a day before my birth, it feels now as close as th...
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