The odor of raisins What would be the use, for instance, in giving the plan of the room that was really my room, in describing the little room at the end of the garret, in saying that from the window, across the indentations of the roofs, one could see the hill. I alone, in my memories of another century, can open the deep cupboard that still retains for me alone that unique odor, the odor of raisins drying on a wicker tray. The odor of raisins! It is an odor that is beyond description, one that it takes a lot of imagination to smell. But I've already said too much. If I said more, the reader, back in his own room, would not open that unique wardrobe, with its unique smell, which is the signature of intimacy. Gaston Bachelard, The Poetics of Space smellmemory
Every Thing An Essay from Every So Often a Talking Dog Appears by Smiljan Radić A crumpled drawingThe tower
A crumpled drawing A child is walking with a crumpled drawing in his hand. Someone asks him if the crumped drawing has a "name"... "Every thing," he replies. nameschildhood
The tower The tower is just a common grater. It is not used to look out toward a distant world from above, but only to slice, grind and grate its surroundings. Anyone who stepped inside would see an irremediably cold, metallic, empty void, and a few scattered holes where the world literally seeps through in pieces. It is a sad project. After the Fair architecturemelancholydarkness