It was drizzling in the morning. The morning sky was grey and the temperature was perfect, making waking up in the morning an immense task. Time seemed to pass slower on that usual morning stroll to office. Cars slowed and a major congestion was ultimately inevitable, like river flowing through a tiny chasm, clogged up and slow moving. I took a right turn off the LDP highway, beside a construction area and it was busy as usual. But, this morning, something was different. Maybe it’s the excessive humidity in the atmosphere, my nose was picking up a lot of scent. According to Gizmodo, the lovely, earthy smell after the rain is called petrichor, but nobody knows what caused it. I would love to have that blend over an aroma diffuser.
It was a burnt hint against a pungent petrol smell and a whiff of rubber rubbing against the tar road. Accompanied by an slightly elevated heat from the vehicles, it was surprisingly quiet. After that sharp turn, the fragrance of rice and mixture of herbs filled the air and completed the breakfast ritual, married with the scent of culture and heritage. Not forgetting the musk of working men that lingered longer than the sign of cigarette in every breath and the nasi lemak packets on their hands. A baby was in a lady’s arm, effusing the smell of cheap perfume mixed with the scent of dairy product, I was glad there is no sign of excretory product. Walking past the construction area, the smell of moisture accompanied these scents, with a bright note of earthy redolence. That relatively small green pasture certainly did wonders. The traffic light turned red as I was standing at the junction, the motorcycle sped through regardlessly, leaving a trail of exhaust in my face. I covered my nose with my jacket and I was reminded to wash my jacket soon. The smell of dust wasn’t inviting, that I am sure.
Suddenly, I realised I was running late as the traffic light turned green. What was missing on that morning, is the smell of a great coffee.