Man on the Street in Brazza

Yesterday they were talking about the elusiveness of scent. We can record sound, we can photograph images, but unless we stand on this street in Brazza and breathe in the same air, we cannot know how it was to be on this street. Even if we were totally familiar with Brazza we would really struggle to concoct an olfactory potion in some distant laboratory that could replicate it. We can only try to imagine it.

Today that simple street in Brazza will look different. The slender, dapper man will have moved on. His contemplative expression might, right now, be a smile. The grasses might have flourished, they might have wilted. The crucifix structure of the wall only looks that way if you catch somebody centred there. A fresh wave of posters might have been pasted over the old ripped scraps. The sky might not always be blue, and one day the wall will fall. This photograph caught a single moment, and forevermore everything will become increasingly different. Except perhaps the scent.

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