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After It Rains

August 1, 2014

I never knew there was a name for that!!

In So Many Words

Piazza San Marco, Venizia

~*~

“Mummy … what’s that smell, you know, after it rains?”

Cindy looks at me with her big, brown eyes full of wonder, just a hint of a pucker on her lips to show me she’s not really sure what she’s smelling.

“Feet, darling.”

“Feet!”

Now her look is one of abject horror. I’ve thrown her for a loop.

“Not literally, sweetie.”

She cocks her head in confusion.

“I don’t know, Cindy. They call it petrichor, that smell, and I suppose it smells of whatever you want it to smell and changes depending on where you are. For instance,” I point to the vast expanse of a wet Piazza San Marco where we’re standing, the illumination of which puts a sparkle in my daughter’s eyes, “can you imagine how many millions of feet have walked here?” She shakes her head. “Exactly! Neither can I, but that after-rain odour puts my imagination to work. Wondering. Creating…

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