Glittering, in light reflected off the mirrors on which they rest, glass containers of various contours, and colorful contents catch the eyes of little ones passing by. Little fingers search for just the right one, selecting the red, white and blue label, each pump hissing copious amounts of fragrance in tiny rain showers onto little boys heads. Content in his delight he turns...
Hey Logan! Guess what I smell like?
I smell like America!
Cole, you don't even know what America smells like.
Uh huh, just smell me.
A slithering smile slips across my lips, as I think about what it just might smell like...smoke from a firecracker, sparkling in the night...sweat off the brow after a hard days work...fresh turned dirt in your search for earth worms...tart lemonade or a cool summer breeze with a hint of the stain off the wood of the deck...
I imagine each of our scents we attribute to be a little different, yet we'd be talking about the same thing. Our perceptions of importance, or possibly preferences color our olfactory observations.
What does your your country smell like?