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TALES OF AN ORANGEPEELER

an archive of pleasures, wounds, sublimations
& other curiosities :: elsewhere :: profile


03.24.04, wednesday morning

Yesterday I carried so much silence with me, my nasal passages became clogged. Did you know that smell is one of the oldest of our senses and that the subconscious is probably more influenced by it than any other sense? Wouldn't it be neat if we could scratch 'n sniff each other through the Internet? But of course it is impossible; such an idea is foolish. (You, I cannot ever know the scent of you; how can I follow my nose? Describe to me your perfume, yes, notes of citrus or sandalwood or Bulgarian roses or sand, yet still the scent of that perfume living on your skin will elude me as long as the actual miles between us are never breached by our feet.)




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