I've always wondered why smelling something familiar causes the most intense memory response in me. Everything smells - laundry drying, meat cooking, asphalt in the summer sun, a sleeping baby's hair, that certain someone.
Nasty or nice, scents permeate the air. But why do some of them throw me into melancholy or a bone deep happiness? Sounds and sights can bring me back too, but something about a smell opens the flood gates of memory.
Watermelon still warm from the vine, a book-filled library on a rainy afternoon, a sea of funeral flowers, mulling spices bubbling away on top of the stove - all plunge me into my past, briefly, viscerally. Past moments of my life demanding some time in my present.
// Mini Moments Collection, 3”x3”, acrylic on canvas, 2018. // 👉🏻 www.guilloperez3.com
