Not now, but soon
When was the last time you walked in the street and the smell was so overpoweringly sweet, just shy of being wrapped in honey? But that fragrance is lilacs and there is not a tree in sight. The perfume is drifting up to me as I tiptoe down this steep hill littered with old stones, navigating a constellation of dog shit - but that doesn’t matter.
The walls are all crumbling and the windows are all crooked, and this seems like the most perfect place in the world. That smell is as strong as an old lady’s perfume and just as cloying but for some reason it is not too much, it is just enough and all you want to do is tip your head back and stand there drinking it all in for a minute or two. This corner of the universe is so strange, so humble and unassuming - but somehow it makes me think I will be able to say “life is good” again. Not now, but soon.