Scent
In the hustle and bustle of the train station, a strand of hair passes by. The lingering scent. Reflexively, I inhale deeply. It is a scent I have smelled once before. The fragrance immediately transcends time and space and takes me back to the scene where I smelled it. The scent of a stranger whose age and appearance are unknown. The scent takes me in another world of Eros, and my thoughts just a moment ago disappear like a puff of smoke. Ecstasy fills the mind to the very edges of its recollection.
When I look back at the owner of the fragrance, there is no one anymore. Knowing this, I feel relieved. It should remain a stranger and be rather a pure fragrance, without any concrete form. But the fragrance is not empty at all, it dominates me.
It is like sweet words addressed by a forgotten beloved person. The fragrance still revives in my mind and enraptures me. All anxiety and anger disappear like a phantom, enveloping me like warm sunlight. Just as a land that has dried up, covered with heated sand, is brought back to life by a sudden evening shower, a lonely miserable soul is moistened like a vast and green ocean, and slowly begins to sway. Green water draws me pleasantly into it, amniotic fluid. I dream of returning to my own origin. Scent is a more primal instinct than words. It goes back to the darkest depths of the mystery.
The gentle green foliage the sun’s rays filter through from beneath is serene. In hunger and frantically chasing their prey, did dinosaurs see the green that have existed since primitive times? I wonder if the last thing the little creatures, chased and preyed upon, saw, were also green trees, embraced by the scent of fresh green leaves.
There are countless scents, but only one evokes a strong memory. Does it have something to do with a memorable event that had been forgotten? Is it buried forever, never to be remembered? Does it just physically remain as a trace in my brain? When was it? What happened then? But memories have no content. Chasing memories without content is an endless struggle one can never win.
Scent resembles happiness. Even though there are happy experiences, the feeling of happiness itself has no content. When one is filled with happiness, the mind becomes vague and each experience loses its individual meaning. It is like an opiate addict. Adam, who ate the apple, has suffered from the torture of recognition along with Eve. Happiness is always a return to paradise, the origin of happiness.
Scent mocks recognition like a girl who skillfully runs away in the forest while laughing at the men who naggingly woos her. A summer cloud rises, transforming its shape in various ways. Even if one tries to climb high to grasp the clouds, it is impossible to accomplish it. The constellations shining in the night sky are only imaginary. Physics cannot perceive the world.
Scent evokes memories. When I wake up after a dream and try to capture it, it rises up like morning mist. It is correct to say that the scent is a memory that was not awakened. A never fulfilled memory.
In ancient times countless soldiers were sent to a battlefield. They slept under the stars, fed on wild beasts, and never returned to their homeland. None of them knows the reason of the battle. They fight for something they do not know and die without knowing why. Those who seek to know the secret of scent suffer the same fate. It is a mystery that should exist but is never disclosed.
That is our destiny. We search for the meaning of life. Sometimes we feel happiness. But there is no substance to it. It is lost as quickly as the scent fades, and there is no trace of it. But it certainly existed. Just as the fragrance existed, albeit fleetingly.