Art ain't all paint

There are scent merchants who live by the nose, the way artists live by the eyes, or musicians by their ears.

For them the air is painted with scents as distinct and vivid as colours, who can layer and feather them, as if painting wet-on-wet.

To them the air is music. Pale tears of frankincense awaiting extraction, yellow bergamot, sandalwood, cinnamon and mimosa in concert, sustaining groundnotes of genuine ambergris, civet, castor from the beaver, essence of the musk deer.

They entertain the illusion that they can smell with their hands, their arms, their cheeks, that the odor suffuses them. They smell with their face and their heart.

Scent fosters memory more ready than any other sense.
There is a good anatomical reason for this, the way smell is handled by the limbic system.
It is also the smell of the Root chakra Muladhara.

Of course, bad memories are associated with unplesant odors.
They will open the rank black oubliettes beneath your memory palace.