You know how you always walk beside grabage trucks and get a whiff of that disgusting smell that's both nauseating, sour and cloyingly ripe at the same time?
You know how your stomach turns at that sourish smell not simply because of its glorious fragrance but also the vivid imagery of the mechanisim at the rear that churns up the stacks of waste and squeezes out rivulets of brown juice?
That nausea?
That revulsion?
That abomination?
You see the brown juice seeping onto the uncaring tar road and immediately walk round the puddle.
That puddle of brown garbage juice on the ground?
That's how i feel now.
You know how your stomach turns at that sourish smell not simply because of its glorious fragrance but also the vivid imagery of the mechanisim at the rear that churns up the stacks of waste and squeezes out rivulets of brown juice?
That nausea?
That revulsion?
That abomination?
You see the brown juice seeping onto the uncaring tar road and immediately walk round the puddle.
That puddle of brown garbage juice on the ground?
That's how i feel now.
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