Awrharwaaaaaah.

“What an incredible new smell you’ve discovered!”

Oh, Han Solo. So mad at Chewbacca. It wasn’t even Chewbacca’s fault that they escaped into a trash compactor.

But I do understand Han’s point. For I have discovered a new smell.

Every morning, the entrance to the ‘tro smells like wet dog. (exclamation point?)

At least that’s the identification my scent-memory throws my way. I’m scared that it’s not actually the homeless dogs, even though they do come in to warm up after rolling around in the snow all the cold night long. They can only stay for a short time before the crack squad of crazy grandmas (with their useless whistle-blowing at the xuligany [hooligans] leaping past the turnstiles) totter over to the door and beg them to shoo. The grandmas addresses the homeless dogs on tovarishch [comrade]. Fantastic.

I think the smell is actually the people. I’m just not sure if it’s the fur coats, or the actual, physical, human beings surrounding me.

That’s probably impolite to say, isn’t it.