Aroma of Spices
I’m connoisseur of spices.
The aroma, the texture, the colours.
A wooden box full of colourful spices
sitting on the stone slab under the window.
The shadows and lights played a beautiful symphony on the hues when wind rustled the leaves of the tree outside that very same window.
Do you know how long it took me to come out of the stupor weaved around my senses. I’m yet not out. As a matter of fact, I still smell nutmeg here, cinnamon there.
The sweet and spicy fragrance of that eve when I sat on my chair looking at the spice box, still lingers.
It’s in me, on my skin, under my breath. I sat silently watching, with no thoughts to disturb me, let the air waft the smell of spices to me and sweep that over my body and senses.
It was lulling, it was beautiful to feel drawn into the olfactory world, where you recognise nothing except the smells. Each one, a unique one.