In search of lost time and things past

A city, rather any place, is known by its sights, sounds and most of all its smell.

It can be the stink of a gutter, the stench of garbage, the aroma of flowers, the earthly redolence of lush green grass and swaying leaves, the mucky smell of flowing water or just the trail people leave behind as they go about their mundane business.

Beijing, the city I have lived and worked in for eight years, still has all these, though just a whiff of the first two.