Sickness, and mind's rest breaks out in a cold sweat. I cannot stand the smell, the stench that sickness breeds in bloated sickly bowels, and shots of bacterial fumes puff, puff out of a dumb, hemorroidal sphincter, ruining the crispness of fresh air. Maybe in Japan dead plants stink like this--Oe Kenzaburo is always keen to describe the foul aura created by detrital plant matter. At least in this arid-super-arid environment, these shots of methane are the worst thing I can think of smelling. I'm sure this is the scent of death--separated by incidental shifts in a state-of-being, like the difference between pig and pork. One is reminded of how the body is a vulnerable sack of flesh and reticulated nerves wrapping bones and blood vessels---it's a wake-up call; moreover it's a call to action.