You did it. You broke the internets. The good news is that here, in this hidden part of the internet, you have found something else. While you did not find the content you were seeking, you did find the one page on the internet that you can smell. Maybe if you lean in you can detect it? You can lean in. No one will judge you. You can put your nose just inches from the screen. What is that smell? Like a memory, hovering just there at the edge of your consciousness. The scent of the crisp, clean air of autumn. Maybe something you haven’t paused to take in since when you were a child. It's a fragrance reaching deep into memory. And in the way only a scent long forgotten can do, it's pulling the past to today, the two separated by... what? Maybe the two were never really apart. If you had to name it, you'd say It's the smell of dry autumn leaves, but only the way they smell when the air whips past you and someone is burning twigs and branches a few streets over. It's something you've been seeking ever since that one day that one autumn, when it was jacket weather and the wind cut in from the north and the sky was gigantic and so blue it hurt. The laughter of your friends almost impossible to hear over the roar of those gusts and gales. Just lean in real close to your screen and take it in. You remember. The wind was snapping at you, blustery and a chill cider would push away, but warning in it’s howling of winter's arrival. In the coming mornings you'd wake with rime on the window, glass like ice to the touch. But today, that day, you felt like it all just might last forever. The future stretched before you with infinite possibility. You would find love. Happiness. Adventure. And you and your pals would never part. You knew it was all impossible, but maybe, just maybe, if you tried hard enough to hold onto this feeling on this day... maybe it could all happen. And maybe it did. Maybe this is just a dream. And that day, today, you thought maybe you could hold onto it, if not clasped in your hands, then maybe in your mind's eye. But then... the sun lowered, the blue of the sky bursting into a cacophony of pinks and gold, the inferno at the end of the day, deepening to indigo as the streetlights flickered on. On the wind, you heard your mother's voice calling you home. You tried to carry that feeling home with you as you walked, thinking this feeling, like a vibration in your flesh and bones would, could stay with you, even as you knew once you stepped over that threshold and into your home, it would vanish, a soap bubble on a pin. Simply gone but for the memory. That's exactly what you're smelling. That's what you found here on the broken edge of the internet.
You did it. You broke the internets. The good news is that here, in this hidden part of the internet, you have found something else. While you did not find the content you were seeking, you did find the one page on the internet that you can smell. Maybe if you lean in you can detect it? You can lean in. No one will judge you. You can put your nose just inches from the screen. What is that smell? Like a memory, hovering just there at the edge of your consciousness. The scent of the crisp, clean air of autumn. Maybe something you haven’t paused to take in since when you were a child. It's a fragrance reaching deep into memory. And in the way only a scent long forgotten can do, it's pulling the past to today, the two separated by... what? Maybe the two were never really apart. If you had to name it, you'd say It's the smell of dry autumn leaves, but only the way they smell when the air whips past you and someone is burning twigs and branches a few streets over. It's something you've been seeking ever since that one day that one autumn, when it was jacket weather and the wind cut in from the north and the sky was gigantic and so blue it hurt. The laughter of your friends almost impossible to hear over the roar of those gusts and gales. Just lean in real close to your screen and take it in. You remember. The wind was snapping at you, blustery and a chill cider would push away, but warning in it’s howling of winter's arrival. In the coming mornings you'd wake with rime on the window, glass like ice to the touch. But today, that day, you felt like it all just might last forever. The future stretched before you with infinite possibility. You would find love. Happiness. Adventure. And you and your pals would never part. You knew it was all impossible, but maybe, just maybe, if you tried hard enough to hold onto this feeling on this day... maybe it could all happen. And maybe it did. Maybe this is just a dream. And that day, today, you thought maybe you could hold onto it, if not clasped in your hands, then maybe in your mind's eye. But then... the sun lowered, the blue of the sky bursting into a cacophony of pinks and gold, the inferno at the end of the day, deepening to indigo as the streetlights flickered on. On the wind, you heard your mother's voice calling you home. You tried to carry that feeling home with you as you walked, thinking this feeling, like a vibration in your flesh and bones would, could stay with you, even as you knew once you stepped over that threshold and into your home, it would vanish, a soap bubble on a pin. Simply gone but for the memory. That's exactly what you're smelling. That's what you found here on the broken edge of the internet.