the smell [Theme] Page 4

Together with the sound of rain, the freshness of freshly cut grass and the fresh smell of the wind, I felt the persistent smell of rural childhood.

Autumn is about hot coffee, slightly burning with either temperature or the bitterness of roasting, about milky fogs in the early morning and the smell of smoke from chimneys, about sunlight, like melted honey, about long walks and cozy evenings with yellowed pages of old books, about the whistle of a boiling, polished, pot-bellied teapot and steam rising from cups of fragrant herbal tea, about days filled with the smell of coffee beans and cinnamon, about Akhmatova’s quatrains aloud, about jazz compositions that returned to the playlist, about spicy autumn perfume, with a smoky aroma of cherry bones, about a bouquet of maple leaves and picnics with grapes, buns and delicate goat cheese, about the rain outside the window of a warm house, in which the feet are buried in the soft pile of the carpet, and the palms are warmed by a cup of cocoa with almond crumbs. Autumn is about what fills your heart with woolen autumn comfort.

The summer flew by so quickly... I keep the smell of the sea in the collected shells and smooth pebbles. Caramel on the skin and salty kisses, and such a crazy lightness of being, as if all worries had flown away with the wind. Happiness splashes of blue water, and glare of sunlight mixed with white lambs of the waves. I keep it all in my heart.

The acrid smell of tobacco smoke - gives rise to an inquisitor in me.

Flowers given without love wither, emitting the smell of sadness.

Your home is where your Heart is... Where it is warm and sincere. Where sunsets, pink waves spilling over the evening sky, the smell of freshly cut grass, strawberries on the palm of your hand and conversations, conversations until the very night. Where the stars are very close, as if you can reach them with your hand, collect a handful and throw it in your pocket for good luck. Where the mists gently embrace the dawn. Where it smells of fragrant pastries. Wherever family and friends are. Where there is happiness and love.

We are told that love smells like roses, but as it turns out, love smells like bleach, hospital, and fear. Anger and feelings of powerlessness. And despite this, I do not want to forget what we have experienced. Not one minute. Not one time you climbed in through a window. Wake up! I want to hug you again. Feel your skin. Kiss your lips. Wake up and we'll face our fears together. Thanks to you, I believed in love, it would be nice now and love believed in us ...

She smelled of cookies and cut grass - oh, that wonderful, warm, sweet smell of childhood! Old people definitely need someone young nearby so that, you know, they don’t forget.

Once it was given to me to feel the stench of Gehenna. This is something so terrible... There is nothing: no shackles, no pain - and such boundless fear permeates your entire being. I only felt this unbearable smell for a moment - and you are already throwing up everything, deadening with rigor, and if you find yourself there? ... People have no idea what they are preparing for themselves, renouncing God.

He was such a scoundrel that all these years I asked myself: Julia, where were your eyes? Let's say, Julia, you have poor eyesight! But you could, Julia, be guided by the smell, as all reasonable women do, even if they are blinded by love.

The smell of a Soviet vegetable store. You will not confuse with anything. Nobody washed the goods, so it smelled like endless fields and earth. Buyers and sellers communicated politely, but the sellers, like the kings of the counter, were, to put it mildly, more often indifferent.

The house is warm but damp; the familiar smell of sleeping people can be felt in the air. Native people. My home is not a shack with crumbling walls and a leaking roof; my home is those who are inside. When I have a new house, I will certainly take the old one with me.

If happiness has a smell, then this perfume is a heavenly fragrance!

Each drop of rain, like applause in the Weather Theater, explodes with applause on the window pane, living for a short moment, flows down in streams on the cornice, leaving fleeting patterns outside the window. Each remembers the smell of Heaven, each keeps its reflection… Small particles of Eternity, knocking with the notes of a forgotten song… songs of our childhood. They, like the kisses of Heaven, touch the Earth to renew our soul...