𝑃𝑎𝑟𝑡 2

Paris had its sweetest smell,

the smell of chestnut trees in bloom

and of petrol with a few grains of dust

that crack under your teeth like pepper.

In the darkness the danger seemed to grow.

You could smell the suffering in the air,

in the silence.

Everyone looked at their house and thought,

"Tomorrow it will be in ruins,

tomorrow I'll have nothing left.

~Irène Némirovsky