smells.
we respond strongly to them.
walking into a room and being over come by a smell, climbing the stairs in the panelka, passing the various smells of cooking, imagining what is happening beyond the doors.
I saw smoke outside my window this morning, concerned ran out to the balcony and looked below.
The moment I put my head out into the plume of smoke I was enveloped by the smell of roasting Bulgarian peppers. A specific smell for me tied with memories of the 2 years I spent in a small Bulgarian village. In the fall, in preparation for winter everyone roasts peppers to put into jars for the coming winter….
Fall is my favorite season, and it’s that much better in Bulgaria. In Bulgaria it means wine and lutenitsa and tikvinik and beautiful evening with clear skies and mountains all colorful…
10 minutes passed with my head out the window, hoping the neighbor wouldn’t come out at look up.
Jar the smell for the winter?