Yesterday morning, stepping off the train downtown, the air smelled like Africa, so strongly that I was disoriented for a moment. Oh, I thought, wrong continent.
"What does Africa smell like?" my colleague asked.
"It smells like wood fires on clean morning air," I said.
...
On the beach, M. and S. played volleyball. I begged off, pointing out that the last thing my crippled wrists need is to spike a volleyball. I sat on a sand bank and laid my head down amidst the sharp, golden beach grass. It smelled sweet and dry, like hay.
"What does Africa smell like?" my colleague asked.
"It smells like wood fires on clean morning air," I said.
...
On the beach, M. and S. played volleyball. I begged off, pointing out that the last thing my crippled wrists need is to spike a volleyball. I sat on a sand bank and laid my head down amidst the sharp, golden beach grass. It smelled sweet and dry, like hay.
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