Travel memories, like treasure troves of the mind, require very little to seep back into our lives; a rhythm, a color, a smell, a taste, an emotion… I can see myself landing there, with my plane: Smelling the captive humidity of the arid soil, the exotic wood carvings of a sculpture, the stretched leather of a djembe drum… such are the olfactive memories that embody FLUTTER: textured, raw, and authentic.
