Smells are the root of all of my memories. I go to choose tea for tonight, and the smell of each is a thousand memories. Hibiscus makes me think of Robyn, the Lapsang of rainy nights so many times past. Ceylon of Carrie and of Jem. Sour cherry of Noam, and the cheap green tea of speeding over choppy sea with Vruba on the way to go to Seattle.