WHEN THE SMELL TAKES YOU BACK THERE

No need to see.

The changing air is enough.

An invisible thread touches your face and your breath gets

makes slower, as if someone had

Closed the door behind you.

There is a smell that has no name but has roots

deep, buried in bone and skin.

You don't know whether it comes from wet wood, from the

cold metal, from someone's skin or from

A memory that never left you.

You stop.

The walls, motionless, hold a breath

ancient.

Each shadow seems to hold a story

You know, even if you have never experienced it.

The floor underfoot feels alive, vibrating

Of a slow beat running through you.

And as the smell gets thicker, you feel that

you're not just remembering:

you're coming back.

Returning to a place that exists only in the

Most secret part of you.

And there, you never really left.