An orange, when pealed, releases a scent representative of the tangy fruit. Even in the absence of sight, the scent signifies presence – may the scent be real or imitated. It stimulates the mind to think, to remember, to visualize.
A scent devoid of body is only reserved for the nose to sniff. A cup of coffee would smell like coffee, in the same way that a freshly pealed orange would smell like orange. That yes, an orange scent can be described as ‘tangy’, but isn’t ‘tangy’ a word for taste? In this case, aside from smelling like coffee, how would one describe its scent? Unlike other senses like sight, touch, or taste, words seem to be too imbecile to describe what was smelt.
And since, scents are also devoid of body, no lines, nor curves, nor mutations of figural in-betweens would be able to describe it by appearance as well. Scents are mere abstractions of the physical. Vision is integral to smell.
Scents can also trigger hearing, projecting mental images from memory. It extends to the nerves to make you reminisce, to feel the emotion of the remembered moment. Next is the rapid pulsation of the heart, perhaps the sweating of palms, and then a falling tear (or maybe not). Or perhaps a clenched fist and a pair of strong locked jaws, following a punch, then silence. Scents can do so much. Like an indelible imprint, or a strictly weaved fiber forming cloth, removing the signified from memory is near impossible.
But scents are not exclusive to the signified body. A sweet, flowery smell of a flower can belong to any flower. In the same way that a scent of a rotting body can belong to a dead rat or even to a human (not necessarily dead). For scents are replicable, the signifier can signify anything or anyone.
You haunt me more than ever.
A scent devoid of body is only reserved for the nose to sniff. A cup of coffee would smell like coffee, in the same way that a freshly pealed orange would smell like orange. That yes, an orange scent can be described as ‘tangy’, but isn’t ‘tangy’ a word for taste? In this case, aside from smelling like coffee, how would one describe its scent? Unlike other senses like sight, touch, or taste, words seem to be too imbecile to describe what was smelt.
And since, scents are also devoid of body, no lines, nor curves, nor mutations of figural in-betweens would be able to describe it by appearance as well. Scents are mere abstractions of the physical. Vision is integral to smell.
Scents can also trigger hearing, projecting mental images from memory. It extends to the nerves to make you reminisce, to feel the emotion of the remembered moment. Next is the rapid pulsation of the heart, perhaps the sweating of palms, and then a falling tear (or maybe not). Or perhaps a clenched fist and a pair of strong locked jaws, following a punch, then silence. Scents can do so much. Like an indelible imprint, or a strictly weaved fiber forming cloth, removing the signified from memory is near impossible.
But scents are not exclusive to the signified body. A sweet, flowery smell of a flower can belong to any flower. In the same way that a scent of a rotting body can belong to a dead rat or even to a human (not necessarily dead). For scents are replicable, the signifier can signify anything or anyone.
You haunt me more than ever.
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