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I smell things. I mean my nose smell things. Usually, I am on my own, going about the day’s business and my silly nose who cannot remain close like my mouth — my mouth likes being closed (it should be shut right?) most times, it just looses its home training  sometimes and starts misbehaving whenever  it sees food — and my eyes — this is not entirely true though, my eyes are always open, they close only when I sleep and hopefully they will remain shut after I die.

My eyes wander a lot. Especially in a public place. They like looking at people who are not looking at them. You can safely call my eyes ‘a pervert’. I won’t argue with you. They refuse to listen to me whenever I tell them to mind their business.

“One day, a roaming fist will meet you and you will become swollen.  That’s if you are lucky. If the fist is wearing a ring, a lump can easily take your place.” I always advise my eyes. But like all things rebellious,  they never listen. They tell me it’s not their job to listen.

“That’s what the ear is meant for.”

They don’t really say the words though. That’s for my mouth to do when it’s not eating. My eyes have a way of talking. Their pupils will dilate, eye brows taking various shapes, even the eye lashes contribute too. That’s how my eyes say they don’t care.

Abstract and Fairy Art

Fairy Art

Back to my nose; we are almost being distracted by my mouth and eyes. They are distracting like that. Even the quiet ear that just listens and never makes a sound distract people too. Lots of distracting stuffs making up my head.

Okay back to the matter of the nose.

My nose smell stuff. If only it doesn’t play a huge role in breathing I would have had it blocked. Chopping it off would have been better, but it would make my face look scary. Children will have a legitimate  reason to cry whenever I try to cuddle them. We don’t want to give them an alibi to be snubs, right?

Anyway, my nose, it smells a lot. One moment, I am walking down the street the next I am perceiving   akara, and before I know it my stomach tells my brain or maybe it’s my brain that tells my stomach. But anyway, they tell themselves that I am hungry. All because of my nose.

 

My nose is the greatest rebel I know. The only moment of not smelling things unnecessarily I enjoy is when I have a blocked nose thanks to Miss Catarrh.  But then, I pray it stops because breathing becomes difficult. And we all know what happens if you find it difficult  to breathe; it will become easy to die. Let’s just say I still prefer the difficulty  of living to the ease of dying.

My nose, it smells things a lot, as you know already — I have told you before or haven’t I? Sometimes, I like the windows closed (it should be shut right?) and my nose starts to smell dust. Sneezing to blackmail me. I end up opening the windows. Bullied into doing what I don’t want.

Black and White Nose Sketch

The Nose

There are times I want to wear a shirt but I end up not wearing it. Immediately the shirt gets close to my body my nose blackmail again,  the shirt is ridden with sweat or dust or dampness or whatever smell my nose can think of. Mission failed, shirt relocated to laundry basket. Increase the population  of dirty clothes. If only my nose could wash clothes, I bet it would be less selective then.

 

My nose is really mean. Believe me. Use an expensive perfume it will say it is too harsh. Don’t use one it will nag about the dangers of body odor. “It is not a myth,” my nose will announce.

My nose is also very proud. I am a humble person,  but my nose? It believes it is the crown jewel of my face.  It stands out from the others so it always brags about being outstanding.  My eyes are buried in two sockets. My mouth drawn on the lower part of my face. Ear tossed to the side of my head where the less useful  things should be — at the side—  because only the important stuff stay in front. But my nose, it stands out above all others. Always standing, never sitting. A proud nose.

The only thing that bothers my nose are pimples. They don’t come often but when they do, oh lawd! My nose becomes self conscious and starts acting shy. It becomes nicer to the other occupants of my face.

“We have to work together to make this face look presentable, don’t forget we are a team.” I heard it say to the other occupants of compound-face once. You can imagine the deception, yuck!

But when the pimples eventually die, my nose pulls away from the others, stands at attention and bask in the glory of being the face’s prized jewel. Such a petty nose.

Anyway, this is not about my nose, neither your nose, nor is it about me or you, but it is about us. It is also probably about those who like to lord over others, and those who believe every other person is beneath them because they are the ones that make the world go round — center of the universe things.

Art work by Alim Smith

Life’s a Beach by Alim Smith

The thing my nose doesn’t  understand — and by extension you and I — is that without my face, it is nothing.  Can you imagine a nose just there as a complete being? Walking around eating pizza and drinking coke? It’s an absurd reality.

So get a filter, gather the words of this post and purr on them (it should be pour them right?). Let the fine particles of sense fall out the holes of the filter and let the giant rubbish pieces remain.

When you are done, take the finely filtered sense, pour the rubbish  in a drain. Don’t hoard the sense and store in a sack, use it. You can plug it into your head. Yes, common sense is now a plug and play device — one of the many perks of technology.

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