five senses



Smell: the smell of saltwater, humid and fresh and bright as I was sat in the sun on a ferry going across the East river. Taste: parmesan fries with truffle oil and cilantro aïoli. Enough said. Sight: watching the last dregs of the sunset from the middle of Brooklyn Bridge; the Manhattan skyline stark against the deep yellow sky slowly bleeding into orange, and, on the other side, the Brooklyn clouds tinged pale pink and lavender, the water below jean-blue. Touch: petting the home’s huge yellow dog (a Labrador ? A Golden Retriever ? I don’t know, I am terrible at dogs) for ages this morning, kitchen dark still, clumps of hair sticking to my palms and slobber on the floor and the comfort of his heavy, warm weight against my legs. Sound: sirens and horns and Subway trains and air conditioning units and very loud music from big cars and people shouting into their phones and bicycle bells.


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