I am not in habit of observing people neither their minute details nor noticing them.
I am a common man and probably the ignorant one.
What anyone wear, what someone do is not my cup of coffee.
But yes I think in some different angles about the humans. I can recognize them through their unique fragrance.
And yes this is all about for me to understand them.
Like a hummer left its mark in the deserts during off road racing.
Like the people left their footprints on the beaches as their evidence of arrival.
Like the smoke of chain-smoker portraying his existence.
Like a Petrichor as a clue of rain.
Like a crime scene screaming about the identity of a murderer.
Like a shirt drenched with blood depicts the brutal murder in the street.
Same is the case for the scents.
They show their presence.
They show the class of their wearer.
I can feel different perfumes from the humans.
Some are as delicate as like lavender and violets.
They attract me. They hit on my heart. And freaking out
As I dampen my soul with the shower of them.
As I am chandelier lighting the whole room.
As I am whisky straight and strong.
Some are so complicated that I don’t even a have chance to feel them.
So heuristic and deep.
I sense myself in a superstitious trap.
Some are black ones
The unsolved mysteries.
As awful as the smell of Compost.
I cannot resist such odors from the humans.
The series of negative vibes.
Some others are so repugnant and stale that even I question myself.
Do any one have this one too?
They are like rotten burned flesh.
And the last but the only one the scent which I never smell like before.
This one has no competitor.
No challenger.
I think no words to describe this aroma
Lets try to explain it
It’s like a branded exotic piece
As soon as I smell it, it’s penetrating in my lungs.
I am fainted.
It’s masculine
Earthy, sensual, soft, harmonious.
Light airy fresh in blue sky and after-rain dewy scent.
Making me fly.
It actually follow the law of diffusion
The more I smell the more it diffuses into my body.
I keep this one my in broken necklace closer to my heart/
In an old picture in my ripped jean.
People ask me what is this
And with an awkward silence
I am just able to say
Nothing
But a strong Sillage.