The smells, if you could enjoy them as a great recipe of the air, told so many stories.
The smells of the neighbourhood had evolved over the years, no more was there the tincture of gasoline, yet more pronounced were the floral notes of previous eras.
The smells of that city were a thread to past and future, for they were the aromas of our cuisines, our cultures.
The smell was one of roses, of a meadow breeze that had wended its way through a great many wild flowers.
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