Pain. Regret. Memories…
That was what it smelled like; that and old bricks.
It’s a faint odor, but it’s there, not detectable by its presence so much as by its absence. If you spend enough time around old buildings you’ll begin to notice it on your clothes. Fresh bricks have a clean, earthy, smell. They smell wet, of clay and mortar, of red hot iron and sawdust. But old bricks dry out. All the earth goes out of them and they begin to crumble. What remains is sweat, sweat and smoke, and chemicals. The smells of men, now dead most likely, the men who spent their lives working in this factory; now a pile of rubble, soon to be a vacant lot…
And what will it smell like then? Fresh cut grass? Milkweed and thistle? Fungus on a rotting log?
A blog about stuff..
