Memories- SmellEvery once-in-awhile you get a second chance. I believed this with my whole heart as I tugged that last meaningless empty drag of my final-to-be cigarette. Death danced in my lungs disbelieving that I would ever stop being his unwilling lover. He caressed my dying, sapped lungs as if reassuring me "your going to miss me, I'll be back". I tore up a cigarette just out of defiance.
I remember 3rd grade, it's 5 am in a small city in the middle of Indonesia. A rooster is crowing and my biggest concern is whether or not a particularly cute 4th grader will play tag with me. A cement wall is visible through the window slats, multicolored glass twisting menacingly glinting dawns first light, it's 6 am now. The smell of oatmeal.
I remember standing on a mountain 9,000 feet above sea level a grass thatched roof hut stands behind me. Four naked children with curious expressions watch me. I am 13, I am in love with nature- I see jungle stretched out before me as far as the eye