Compost tang goes right up my nose.
As I clean the container.
Spicy aromas splatter and splash out of my kitchen, blessing it like holy water.
Breathing in the scents of sweet bushes of basil in flower, which drift across a boring concrete city.
My bounding hound leaving his hair across the garage floor with his pine sweat musk overpowering my nostrils.
The imposing pungent bouquet of garlic cut, and between the thumb and forefinger rubbed with love.
The lazer hot zing of freshly squeezed lemons on the bench.
As I go a smelling, I fear blindness slightly less now.
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