The same way we say “Ah, Shucks!” Russians mutter “Da, Blin!” (Literally, “Yes, crepe.”) I gained insight into this phrase on a mild April evening, when I also discovered how our US cultural expectations sometimes rendered ordinary tasks like ordering dinner somewhat less than forthright. This excerpt comes from “American on Display,” the journal I kept on my first trip to the USSR in 1990 as a bilingual guide on Design USA, a cultural exchange exhibit of American life to …
Tag: Stink
“The Master of Scents” * Fiction * By Vincent Ravalec * Translated by Wendeline A. Hardenberg
He liked to think that wherever he happened to go, he got into people’s heads. He wormed his way inside them, influenced them, guided the moments he joined—that’s how he understood his purpose, his role here and there: as a joint venture—as surely as a ray of sunlight illuminates a day or the rain dampens your hair. Few knew him directly or had access to him, and yet many had encountered him. He was the Master of Scents. He ruled …
“AN OLFACTORY LIFE,” Fiction by Steve Carr
My nose has been trained to sniff out every objectionable smell within sniffing range. It’s a marvel of radar technology. Why the military hasn’t used my nose for national defense, or offense, I have no idea. Being in the hospital, in this bed, my nose has been working overtime. Cleaning fluids. Pure alcohol. The perfumes the nurses wear. My urine soaking through the top sheet. My nose is unable to block out the smell of any of it. My nose …