Walking down the Parisian street with tree-lined avenues,
shops and cafes leading me down the way.
Cold breeze. Mist covers the other side of the street and the shops seem like fading away.
The smell from the bouquets of roses, the paper scent from the tiny stationery boutique.
And the aroma of freshly-baked bread drifting in the air immediately fills me up,
and my mind goes a little bit sober.
I always love the idea of smell.
It summons memories and throws me right back into a special moment.
