Smells, time and flowers

11 Mar

Time is urgent, time and money, being and time, but the interpretation of time is not secondary, considers it absolute, or even the “fourth dimension” that depends on it, but it is not, time is duration and when not the smell loses the “aroma” (in sense of smells).
This is how Byung-Chul Han defines it in his “The Aroma of Time: A Philosophical Essay on the Art of Delay” (Relógio d’Agua,) which, using Marcel Proust, defines it: “His temporal strategy in the face of this hasty period consists in contributing to the recovery of time, the Aroma.” (Han, 2016, 57).
Proust’s novel is “In Search of Lost Time,” do not rush has nothing to do with the digital universe, is talking about a work published in seven volumes between the years 1913 and 1925 in seven volumes, the period of the foundation of the Pequeno Jardim store in Lisbon, in Bairro Alto, at Rua Garret, 61 (photo above, still there).
He speaks of the “timelessness” of Being, losing continuity, permanence, makes a quote from Proust of something I have felt, but in the opposite sense: “The man I was no longer exists, I am another,” and says that this is an identity crisis, I felt the same crisis but in an opposite sense, something I found in a contemporary Portuguese poem called Café Orfeu.
Portuguese poet Manuel Antonio Pina says at the end: “And to which I returned, slowly as if before your smile someone (I probably) had never existed”, of course talks about a meeting of a person, one can think the smile of life, or how Marcel Proust would like a scent found, aromas I felt and tasted in Lisbon.
As I think of reforestation, Martha Nussbaum’s theme for a resumption of the “aroma of time”, I remember a music “fado” of Amália Rodrigues that says “smells good, smells like Lisbon”, the words speak of flowers in the cover, says the letter of the among other verses:
“A carnation in a stolen water It smells good, it smells like Lisbon,
A rose blooming in the cover Smells good, Smells like Lisbon ”
Lisbon smells of flowers and sea, it says at the end, but the flowers are plastic, and if they do not take care of them (the sardines are disappearing) the sea will also be plastic, but I’m dreaming of a “reforestation”.
The “fado music” follows in the immortal voice of Amalia Rodrigues:
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