The scent of crisp mornings somewhere far from the muck of what I called life at that very moment. This place was fresh and different, filled with people who didn't find me strange, or at least, stranger than most other people. Well, even if those people didn't particularly like me (although, I'm very sure that isn't the case) the times we shared were something that comes back to me through scents and snow. Through ferns and acres of trees. Through faces that still smile the same after what seems like forever. Even the taste of certain tobacco gets me in a weird fluster just from the flash of a previous moment.
I admire the body because it contains little things that keep you from forgetting the things that make you smile. At least, if you can find some pleasure in the little things I suppose. Huh, but who am I to say anything?
--
