The absence of moisture

For the first time in my life I have met someone without the ability to smell.

Imagine this oddity. You can't see it, you can't feel it, you can definetly not smell it. It's nothing noticable, nothing people remember once told.

How many times has not a chocolate muffin or a box of georgous smelling cinnamon tea been put under his nose with the expectancy of a reaction. But no. Nothing. He still can't smell anything. He might even take a sniff and add -I'm sure it tastes great...

The more I dwell on it, the more peculiar and interesting consequences I see. This man is not awfully into cooking. He chews an awful lot of gums. He never has to much cologne. He puts a lot of importance in the texture of things.

For example the texture of food. If the veggie doesn't feel right, then it's left on the plate. Sushi is loved for it's soft pieces of fish. And my Swedish hard bread is refused for its absence of moisture.

Imagine what we use our sense of smell for all the time. To determine where to go, if the water is fresh, if the fish can be eaten. We determine other people, add it to our profiles of the ones around us. Like them or not like them.

How this works for the man without the ability to smell, I don't know. I just know he smells really good.