I was stuck in mild traffic on I-495 when I rolled the windows down and was hit with the scent of home: bitter, acrid, with dampness and a dark herbal scent underneath it, diesel and ozone and damp asphalt and wet wild greenery. I could have been stuck in traffic on a Pennsylvania highway, probably due to the neverending cycle of PA roadwork, at
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Scent is a very important part of memory. White-Boiled Potatoes cooking always reminds me of DOCTOR WHO (and vice-versa) because that's what I was eating the first time I caught an episode as a wee Wirrrn (Tom Baker's ROBOT, since you're asking *g*)
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