| Reflections on Home |
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Some reflections for you, Susa How many poems have been written, pictures painted, songs written trying to describe the meaning of home. To me there’s something chemical about it. The light brown bark of the eucalyptus, the sappy green of its leaves, even the tainted blue acorns littering the field are in some weird way a part of me. We must share some molecular structure, some wavelength.Who can tell me why I feel the way I do when I crumble a eucalyptus leaf in front of my nose and breath in the intense, acidic vapor? Neural connections are immediately drawn to the many times as a child I climbed up the massive eucalyptus in my back yard. At the same time I see and smell the memory of opening my clothes closet with the eucalyptus branch in the corner. It was my mom’s best method of keeping out the moths and helping my clothes smell fresh. The sensory reaction and the feelings of childhood that result must have a biochemical explanation. It’s not only the smells. It’s the pictures forming in my brain, the browns of the grass, the greens of the trees, the blues in the sky. Much more even than that. It’s the warm sensation on my face from the southern sun, the salty breeze against my arm.
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