blind from birth, she could tell the difference between the odor of chrysanthemums and tulips, and remember her first whiff of both
she could identify the scent of her brother in a groping group of sweaty brutes
she knew her nose was her biographer collecting memories, visions her eyes could not
she studied biology only to discover her compendium of smells originated in a space infinitely smaller than a fly's eye
a few molecules devoted to identifying ham, the rich smokey meat of her first Easter
another clump to help her hold the faint smell of perfume which lingered in the room hours after her mother passed
and who knew what atoms, what cells, what curse of chemistry forced her to recall, most of all, the sweet scent of her newborn's hair,
the few seconds she held him, after his heart stopped, and they took him and placed him in a smooth, cold box, where sight, sound and smell were locked forever
a part of chromosome 11 has been determined to be responsible for the development of much of our sense of smell