Ships

I would like to be able to record smells. Some of them are so unique, so tied to an experience, so precise yet elusive when summoned back. I remember with nostalgia one early spring day when I passed through Braşov and the central plaza and a few narrow streets smelled like freshly taken from the oven home-made bread. What an awesome smell to record. It had snowed the night before and the town was clad in snow and this surprising smell of bread. I never associated the winter-spring transition with cleanliness, but there it was, the purest of all smells gliding on the whitest of all snows.