Suddenly, you catch a faint, familiar scent — an aroma you first encountered in a far-off country. And it makes you wonder: does anyone there remember you, or that you once walked their streets?
Maybe it's the woman in the green car, singing loudly along to the radio, who stopped for you at a crosswalk late one evening. Or the freckled cashier with braces, who rang up your bottle of ice-cold soda on a day when the sun was relentlessly hot, and you wished you could be a smooth, small stone at the bottom of the sea. Or perhaps it's the older laborer in his dusty overalls, passing his lunch break with a glass of beer at a plastic table in a cheap diner.
And of course, remembering all these strangers in foreign cities, whose eyes you briefly met, is a far more pleasant experience when you're listening to the matteo just mix for 5/8: radio through your headphones
