It’s a Wednesday after all.
I had an interesting sensory experience with this.
I was at a New Year’s party, in a fantastic Barbican flat with great view over the London midnight fireworks.
The hosts had cooked a wonderful roast venison, and the air was replete with the warm, woozy smells of the Christmas period and the first few guests intermingling over wine.
And then the host’s daughter walked in and sucked the life from the room.
At first, I didn’t notice the slow changes taking place as the fragrance spread, but then I realized that I was starting to feel depressed and that, like the aluminium flakes used to soak up raincloads, something was happening to the atmosphere: a dessicating, chemical dry-out that sapped all the colours…
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