“Sandalwood is the name for several fragrant woods and their essential oil.” Wikipedia
for me it is a memory, a dream. it is the aroma of those weekends i spent with my father. it is the memory of those mornings i used to wake up with this fragrance all around me, and, from all the incentives sticks and aroma, it is the one i love the most.
it is funny how one sticks to memories, finding them in everything around. it is like searching for them , unconsciously. everything that reminds us of something we were fond of, makes us to inevitably prefer it to others. and that applies to things, people, places… we always feel comfortable in a place we loved before. we always tend to have more patience, be more nice, be more curious about people that remind us of someone you liked.
it’s a fake feeling of “home”, and we give in to it every time. no matter it makes us sad sometimes, remembering us about people we lost, the memories always win.
and so, each time i burn the sandal sticks, and the aroma invades the room, it feels like i’m still there, in his house, waking up in the morning with this smell surrounding me.
