Everything smells like a barbeque at that uncle's house, the one that also knows exactly how much tannerite costs with tax down at the Guns and Go.
As I write this, a hazy smoke has enveloped the Pacific Northwest and the high desert whatever the hell biosphere I live in at the moment. There may be a picture accompanying this, but if there is not allow me to describe it: Gray haze with shimmering figures in the distance that resemble mountains inhabited by old chain smoking yeti figures who have run out of shit to eat.