— tapioca world tour

entering the office/MIT building this morning, i passed two older people, leaning on the arms of two younger people, and as they passed (was it specifically the man who passed?) i got a whiff of something that jolted my memory. in the elevator, it was even stronger: my grandfather’s aftershave, or perhaps his cologne. i haven’t smelled it in 13 or so years, and might never have remembered it if it weren’t for the old man in the hallway. to associate a smell so much with a place (or, to emotionally geomap the smell, as some 2.0 people would say) — philadelphia, in a small condo on the 11th floor, in my case — and then to experience the same emotion, via smell, in a completely different context, is not only unnerving, it often doesn’t make sense. i almost stayed in the elevator to remind myself this was not the strath haven (condo name), this was not the 11th floor, this was not the 80s or early 90s, this was not my beautiful house, this was not my beautiful wife. what is that beautiful house? where does that highway go?