Underground Parking Lot

Not quite dried concrete, combined with humid remnants of exhaust from all the cars and people that have been here previously. If it weren’t for the chemical smell, the close, warm air would feel luxurious, almost tropical. Since it also smells a little like certain Paris metro stations, there’s also a shiver of that thrilled excitement of being somewhere completely unexplored, with nothing to do but go forth and discover. As quotidian as the environment seems to be, it reminds me of a time when everything felt new, and so it seems to be again.