Scent of Memory

The smoke from the cigarettes dissipated, and the scent of tea leaves, which had been brewed several times, mixed in the slightly humid air - in the hallway with only the tile floor illuminated by cold light and the walls painted once a year. Smelling the faint fragrance of green tea sugar, I felt like I was back ten or so years ago, running around in the living room of my grandfather's house; and like I was going to that winter afternoon ten years later, when the sun shone orange and yellow, warm and warm, soft and gentle through the window, shining on the computer desk, illuminating half of the computer screen, and half of the photos. This is the breath of the fourth floor of the School of Materials this afternoon. And after walking this distance to the School of Computer Science, it was another new smell.

A keen sense of smell brings me many images. Although what I smelled may not be the actual scent, after a kind of imagination-like reproduction, it has been portrayed as a memory, or an imagination ...... is able to practically change my whole mood. From the various smells that were mixed together, one peculiar flavor after another was finely divided, and time slowed down all of a sudden.

The scent of the first floor of the dormitory sometimes takes me back to my kindergarten days. The mattress was stained with dried milk and soaked with urine, half of which was covered under the long-lost quilt and pressed under the sleeping boy; half of which had just been exposed to the summer sun and was retrieved from the drying rack by the teacher, with a little cool breeze from outside the door and the smell of iron from the gray and white steel pipes. During the lunch break, there were many wooden beds with green paint in the hall, and many children were sleeping. I was the child who couldn't sleep and walked around the aisles between the beds, just like the lunchtime teachers making their rounds around me.

The smell of the second floor of the dormitory sometimes brought me back to the old bathhouse locker room, where the whining central air conditioning blew hot air, blowing on the polished wooden locker doors of the locker room and on the will-be wet bath towels wrapped around people. Someone is taking off clothes, someone is putting on clothes, warm air blowing all kinds of dirty clothes and human body odor, but also the smell of freshly bathed soap, body lotion, disinfectant water. Some people are sitting naked on the bench playing with the phone, some people are lying on the bed in bathrobe sleeping, some people are squatting on the scale weighing, some people are slipping on the slippers to the bath. And since I came to the south, to Zheli, gradually lost the climbing heart, the sense of competition and competitive child mentality, I became more and more dislike the big bathhouse.

...... I like the variety of scents that bring me all kinds of whimsy and endless memories. This is perhaps the change and pleasure of being able to distinguish the difference in the day to day life. The short walk through this corridor is the time to free myself from the endless bewilderment. Sometimes it is indeed such a situation, whenever sitting in front of the computer, as if you can do a lot of things, but always into confusion and self-doubt, into a kind of insecure cowardice, into a kind of fearful tension and anxiety. Whenever you get up, walk in the open air, breathe some cold air, but then you regain the motivation to continue to run and somehow, the expansion of some crazy confidence. The mood is also such a sudden up and down, like a roller coaster.

I once saw a way to make a "memory capsule": choose a piece of music that you have not heard before and play it on a loop for a certain period of time. When I hear the music again years later, all the memories and feelings from that time will come flooding back, like a frozen river breaking the ice and running. Many of the scents evoke memories of the past, nostalgia for old friends - memories of those childhood days when I liked the wrong people and made funny mistakes because of the scents. I wish I could make these scents into time capsules, so that when I have nothing to do, I can go back to the memory of the past.

The other day I read an interesting quote: The reason why the older you get the faster time passes is because each day accounts for a smaller and smaller percentage of the years experienced. It sounds like there is some truth to it, and I can't help but smile. Every night when I summarize myself, I always feel that there are various shortcomings of the day, which is really lacking; and when I wake up the next morning, I forget the relaxation of yesterday and repeat yesterday's story. Day by day, you do grow up, but it's just simply getting older.

Nowadays, people like to put themselves into shells, using various packages to cover their original scents, and deliberately keep them at a safe distance, and I am less and less able to draw a portrait of others through my sense of smell; the scents of certain places will also be very different with the slightest change in environmental conditions, losing the unique meaning. It's a rare blessing to be able to recall the past when I smell a familiar scent in a moment of inadvertence!