I bought this hand-wash at the supermarket, it appealed to me: tea-tree oil and coal tar fragrance… Coal tar… As I washed my hands it came back to me, through a mist of memories, as in a dream…
The narrow streets, the ancient doorways with stones for riders to dismount, and metal rings on the walls to secure the horses, the steep wooden stairways that appear to rise for ever to mysterious lofts… And then I am there again, a boy still, in the small medieval town, the cobbled lanes, and you, in the cold air of an early eastern spring, and the smell of coal tar the town uses to repair the side walks – so long ago…
Nostalgia overcomes me and I start writing…
oh wonderful, nostalgic from another time…
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Beautiful!
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The sense of smell is such a memory trigger – for good and for bad. I like what you did with this; and I love the photo 🙂
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