The Message From My Son That Forced An Impossible Choice – The Archivist

shake sometimes. My balance isn’t what it was.

But my nose is coming back.

It started small—the faint scent of coffee one morning. The smell of rain through my apartment window. The gradual return of nuance and complexity to the fragrances I’d been unable to experience for months.

Last week, I created my first new fragrance since the poisoning. It’s continue reading …