by GiorgiaOri

Yesterday I lighted a Marlboro, and its taste had a memory. Of that time, smoking in the peruvian Amazon during a rainy day… It was the exact same flavor. It was even the exact same perfume and same sensations on my skin… One cigarette, lighted, had the power to bring me back; a Marlboro is a free ticket to the jungle.

It happens often: a particular smell, or moment, or landscape, or laugh brings me back to something also, something I lived in an other country, in an other time, with other people and with a different me.

I’d like for once, if my eyes could just go black, without seeing other images, of past/future time.
I’d like if I could just listen to a song and sing -without thinking about THAT other moment-, I’d like to hike a mountain without thinking about THAT other mountain, I’d like to kiss a guy without thinking about that other kiss…