Jump Up and Kiss Me Hedonistic Clive Christian 2017

Every scent triggers something.
Whether positive or negative.
Or a bit of both,
or a bit of neither, associations, emotions, and thoughts.
Every scent triggers something.
I thought.
This one triggers nothing. Evokes nothing.
A disturbing emptiness in head and mind.
I have no thoughts, no associations, no emotions.
It’s as if I’m looking straight through it. As if the scent isn’t there at all, but it is, like a black hole somewhere in the night sky. It’s not scent blindness. Perhaps an inner numbness.
I smell it, I smell the notes, so intertwined that I actually don’t smell any notes, only leather, labdanum, tobacco, and cherry I think I can recognize. It transforms a lot, I smell that it is warm and always remains so, but the warmth doesn’t penetrate to me. At all times it maintains this distance from me.
With empty eyes, it looks at me.
All I feel, if it can even be felt, is this sobering distance.
No colors, no liveliness.
As if it were dead.
Or am I the dead one?