Was a cool early-morning some months ago when I decide to take me nose for a walk. Normally, I does walk with me eyes only. But that morning I decide that me nose must go too. Never mind that I usually traipse along a town-road and not in country-fields. This particular route, this early, does hardly have traffic.
Oh, what a walk, what a walk it was.
Debutante flowers glistening with dewels, show off individual fragrance.
England, I smell England, what is it, I know that scent, ah yes, wet, cool, haha, like brand-new technology, a new photocopy machine and pure-white paper, haha, yes, I know that is strange, but it is a fresh-clean smell that remind me of the ad office where I used to work, in the Caribbean, mmm, nice, oh, come to think of it, it is like just-washed clothes hanging out in cool, damp air.
Lemony-cologne young chap waft by, spruce-up so early, he must be going to work.
Peeieww, get that carbon outta here, it don’t belong on this green earth...y’know, that is why I don’t walk on the seawall, I can’t take the pungent black carbon pumping from trucks on the public road, I don’t know how people can walk there, thinking they doing their bodies good, breathing in garbage and poo-odour from sewerage flushing into the sea. Granted, sometimes, when you’s lucky, all there is, is brine and mud and alive fish, but that is when the tide is high, washing away the human-damage.
Bread! Omegosh bread fresh baking bread, ah, bread, yes, a bakery is near here Cousin Yasmeen did tell me. Mmm, thick, plush hot fat plait bread with butter melting and warm home-coffee with full-fat milk like what Pappy used to give we grandchil’ren late afternoon after a heavy day o' play. Tennis-rolls! Mm, soft sweet-lemony tennis rolls with ice-cold mauby from Mr. C. shop on a hot afternoon in Kitty, older cousin used to take them li’l ones to buy. Bread, bread oh bread.
Dew-wash grass and woodsy-green daisy scent. And in the old bruka-down factory yard where geese honk I recognise that long-ago smell of leaves decomposing, going back to the beginning, to soil, and old-trees scents with guava-ish, bitter-green smell take me back to me early days in Nanee and Pa backyard.
I go home, refreshed.
This morning, I walk again after a couple o’ weeks vegetating at home, I need to get rid of the chemical-smell that the Foreignam lady next door spray for two evenings last week. Make me sneezy and nauseous, that smell, it is still there, hanging in the air like doom, must get it out from me eyes, me nose, me hair, that malathion-carbolic stink.
Aw man, the bakery been late, and them flowers been lolling around doin' nothing today, it seem. I gon try again tomorrow morning...but never mind, them old leaves and the dark, cool shade of trees from the ol' factory yard did come to me again...