STORY BEHIND THE SCENT

The morning air was dark with the smoke of burning tobacco.

Surrounded by fumes by those escaping reality. 

Sometimes there are beautiful things you can only smell in the dark. 

I close my eyes and focus on the sweet aroma of fresh baked bread. 

I am an asylum seeker, living in a refugee camp. 

For eleven months I wake up to a little sweetness lost in the smoke.