Each city and person has a distinct smell and/or colour. The more affect it or he or she has had on me, the sharper the said smell/colour.

From time to time it attacks me in hits of nostalgia. The crisp misty winter mornings of Angoulin, the music I used to listen to in Toronto and Montreal, the perfume that you used to wear.

Bordeaux is still too fresh for me to have a particular smell, yet. I wonder what traces of you will be left lingering on me after this year, Bordeaux.