What Does a City Smell Like?

• 42°20'59.2"N 71°03'32.0"W

• Lincoln St 

• I smell the cool air of the night. The edge of the highway is near and I can feel the rush of air tunneling towards me. I’m out of breath as the cars whir past. Towering buildings illuminate the night sky. Street and traffic lights become astral guides in this man-made world.

• 42º20’48.1”N, -71º03’51.9”W

• Herald St. x Washington St.

• I feel the warmth of the setting sun against my cheek. The wind tunnel of the highway blows my hair around like an inflatable tube man. A woman walks by with a cup of coffee, there are birds chirping high up above conversing potentially about this warm break in temperature.

• 42º20’50.3”N, -71º04’02.3”W

• Herald St. 

• The air smells like wet pavement. It hasn’t started raining yet, but it will soon. There’s a crackle of energy in the air tonight. The city is bustling despite the impending storm. The street smells of anticipation. I’m the only one out walking but there are people with places to be, going home for the day, just coming into the city. It smells like anticipation.

• 42°20'51.9"N 71°04'16.3"W

• Berkley St.

• The commuter rail races under me, leaving a trailed scent of fuel in my nose. There’s steam coming out from a manhole cover. It consumes me as I walk over it on my way crossing the road. The emissions, the remnants that get left behind, are momentary memories of physical manifestations of us. I exhale through my nose to purge it from my lungs.

• 42°20'51.5"N 71°04'25.0"W 

• Clarendon St.

• It’s a warm day in the city. I’m overheating a little bit in my light sweatshirt. There is joy in the atmosphere, it’s the first warm day of Spring. A group of students walk by, laughing amongst themselves. I smile to myself about it. People are beautiful. I breathe in lighter, I feel lighter, much more than I did in the winter. There is reason to smile.

• 42°20'11.3"N 71°03'53.0"W

• Frontage Rd. 

• An entry and an exit, I am overwhelmed by the commotion of the traffic surrounding me. I feel the dirty ground beneath my boot, empty bottles, reflective litter. Yet when the sun sets on the city, I can see an ocean of cars making their voyage towards spires of gold. There’s a reason such places exist. There’s a reason for the imperfection beneath my boot.

• 42°20'45.4"N 71°03'40.2"W

• Albany St. 

• I feel small in this space. I feel like I belong here. It’s peaceful despite the cars and trains going by. I smell a cigarette in the hand of a man passing behind me with a slick backpack strapped to his back. I don’t mind, it’s no different from what comes from the cars, buses, and trains I surround myself with daily. We’re much closer to the systems that contain us than we think.

• 42°20'25.3"N 71°03'49.8"W

• Frontage Rd

• I inhale the polluted air as several city buses pull up at the MBTA Albany Garage. The exhaust from the buses makes me cough and wrinkle my nose. The pavement on the sidewalk is a few days new. It’s 70ºF on a Thursday afternoon. It smells like potential here. Potential in every car going somewhere. Potential for a car crash in this busy intersection. Potential for improvement of this space. We all occupy it at some point in time.