We had the experience but missed the meaning, And approach to the meaning restores the experience. T. S. Eliot, Four Quartets It had not occurred to me to think about smell until Ernesto Ventós introduced me to doing precisely that. In fact, I think that my work is implicitly related to smell, in the sense that nature, the landscape, the leaves, the tree-trunks. ..Have their own smell. I like the smell of the earth just after the rain, even the most everyday things like peeling potatoes, the earthy smell they have when they do not come from the supermarket. In fact, thinking has a smell; the smell of books, of their pages, is the smell of the letters, the internal smell of reading and of thinking. Nature and thought, the external smell and the internal smell, complement one another in their fragility, the smell of two worlds that exclude one another but are both witnesses to the ephemeral. Smell as the sense to which least attention has been paid, because smelling, perhaps, like thinking, does not have to be consciously carried out, but comes from silence, precisely because from them is where it is possible to create a work of art or an artistic work.