I walked down the stairs the other day
and thought I smelled Jordan Almonds
which for some reason
reminded me of my Mother.
Driving down the street yesterday
suddenly I smelled Licorice.
Driving back again later
I smelled the Licorice again.
In the same place.
In Jo Nesbo's
the bad guy takes
"a sip of the whiskey.
It tasted of hospital and ashes."
Through my closed apartment door
I thought I heard
a Gamelan Orchestra.
It's really not surprising when you think about it.
Cloches a travers les feuilles.