The Early Morning

Ah, the smell of the new day, still dewy behind the ears, as the "slow, just beginning" gradually lifts, like a shimmery haze rising, you can almost see it go, if you stand and look long enough. Fresh bread, just cooked; clean air, not yet traffic congested; hard, mentally, big city sweat rising up on the back of everyone’s hopes and desirers.

I’ve smelt it in cities around the world, Venice, San Francisco, Hanoi, lovely mornings; the rush headlong into the day, the anticipation of discovery, the savour of taste bud delight to come. I smelt it in Smith Street this morning, as I headed to the supermarket for milk; that big city urban pheromone, coming out to greet me, wrapping around me, sliding into my nasal cavities, up my spine, C4, C3, C2, laying itself out for me to slide into the day.