alluring.

some things have a certain allure to them. they are, in part, as follows:

-the smell of old books. upon seeing an old book, one must insert nose and inhale slowly, then comment on one's love of said smell.

-freshly sharpened #2 pencils. there really is no comparison. they also smell good. what other pencils have numbers, anyway?

-a newly made bed. a significant struggle must be made with one's inner child who wants to jump on it posthaste, the winner of which may vary. these, too, smell like fresh air- in a good, clean, clothesliney way, not in the dirty, muddy, have-just-played-with-the-dog kind of way.

[parenthetical statement: it must be surmised that alluring things have nice smells. maybe it's not the things themselves- it's the mere smell which allures innocent passers-by. it cannot be surmised, however, that "new" or "fresh" always denote "alluring; see exhibit a: "old books"]

-small lights in large numbers. stars, christmas tree, twinkle lights, candles. most of these involve some sort of smell. and whilst certainly being alluring [ie fascinating, charming] they're also simply admirable [beautiful to merely behold, in a less inquisitive way]. i suppose the difference therein must be acknowledged. allure also arises curiosity, whilst admirability bespeaks appreciation from afar.

[parenthetical statement the second: have you ever noticed how remarkably similar "admirable" is to "admiral"? i suppose if i knew an Admiral, i'd find him more admirable than alluring.]

-the sea. its vastness, its incredible power held into place by mere grains of sand, its changes, its sense of adventure, its ships and shallops and boats and bobbers and starfish and seaweed and icebergs and sunsets. the sea, it is accepted, is of a rather pungent nature when it comes to aromatic value.

-far-off places. i have absolutely incurably itchy feet, in the figurative and most respectable way, of course. there is nothing quite like embarking on a journey to a far-off land after long last. ofttimes the actual being in the place can be reasonably compared with the "being-in" of a number of elsewheres, and often is; for no one likes to be a greenhorn anywhere. some may even tend to speak of other places during their entire stay, forgetting that the reason of there-being is, primarily, to see the place! but after the final sunset of your viewing in the land that has now become "yours", it must be confessed that the allure holds fast and that nine times out of ten, you'd return in a heartbeat. perhaps it's the smell of the great unknown, with a little hint of familiarity.

and finally [as i am endeavoring to write shorter blog posts, although i usually fail]:

-home. it cannot be denied. there will, at some point in each of my readers' wide travel and vast experience, be a sudden urge to know what's happening at home, while you are yet abroad. what has been done without you? what things have escaped your memory? what have you missed? what does it feel like, exactly, to be home again? what does it smell like, again? such insecurities shall certainly fade upon spending the better part of a week at home. but you know you missed it, because home is really terribly missable.

and that is its allure.