I am not very fond of pungent smells. Who is? Unless it is of gardenias or carnitas burritos I can deal with it, but the thick musky smell of unbathed human flesh makes me cringe at the sight of this sentence.
Walking into the public library I see an old, dried out librarian whose nose crinkled and mouth furrowed like she had just smelled pee. Fact is, she did smell pee. The whole building smelled of pee. A wave of heavy funk charged at me with odor particles attaching onto my clothes, hair and skin. Pockets of stinging, peppery smells wafted through the aisles and it was not redolent of pages from naturally aging books. It was homeless people.
But before I ridicule the homeless for causing my olfactories to panic, I commend them for spending their time reading and learning rather than aggressively beg for money at the freeway exit. Back to the point- DUDE, I CAN SMELL YOU ALL THE WAY FROM THE AUTOBIOGRAPHIES! I truly thought I was going to faint. I imagined waking up with the first three volumes of Encyclopedia Britannica scattered on top of me, a medic wafting alcohol swabs and a crowd of homeless people witnessing my post-timber experience. Panic starts to set in- I am going to faint. The circulated essence of unbathed skin and pee soaked clothes started to constrict blood flow to my brain. I gasped for a final breath, unwillingly tasted the remnants of Homeless Man No. 5.
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