The Darkroom

Years ago when I took Photography in college, I used to love the smell of the darkroom. I miss it terribly. Every once in a great while, if I concentrate hard enough, the smell returns to me. It's fleeting, less than a flicker of an instant, but it does return.
Tonight I was seated beside Anne in a darkened theatre for the 7:40 showing of The American. When I saw the director's name, Anton Corbijn, appear on the screen, I was brought back to my days in the darkroom. He was a photographer I admired, whose work was always recognizable to me, and so I closed my eyes and the smell of the fix solution drifted through my olfactory system, bringing me back to 1996.