Smell My Sunlight

Welcome to my first blog post on this blogger site.

Thank you for your time, effort and falling over your own shoelaces, to make it to this not so private space.

I'm probably going to be writing some loopy stuff on this blog as I'm going to use it as an outlet. Much in the same way as raw sewage was pumped into the Thames in the Nineteenth Century, I'll be pumping some lovely emotions into this blog. This blog will probably stink a little.

Therefore, douse your curtains in lime and paint your walls white so you can stay on track. By staying on track, I mean, find it bearable to put up with the stink of my caustic writing. Don't go rubbing any of these words on your skin as you might need medical attention.

I'm going to attempt not to use exclamation marks in this blog. Normally I use a bucket full, just to show people the high points in my writing. They've been banned. Also, I normally use ellipsis for dramatic intent, I've banned that too. You can use them in your comments, I'm just trying a novel way of writing. Hopefully it won't be too boring and I'll be able to convey emotion without my two favourite writing weapons.

A brief pause to show I am sad about not using them.

Now back to the jolliness of thinking about how curtains were thought to be able to keep out stinks. Normally a curtain keeps out light, not the smell attached to the light. Sunlight must smell because people sneeze when they are exposed to too much sunlight. Do you think our brains could decide or come up with a definition of what sunlight smells like?

Write me a fun definition of what sunlight smells like. If you can't, I'll have to answer my own question, and that will make me look slightly foolish.


You can tie your shoelace now, if you want to.