The cold pages meet my face in 4 spots, on each cheek and each eyebrow. The smell? It’s of leather. Leather boots. Old leather soles. Reminds me of Grandpas garage, where there were old leather goods. I also smell liquorice. Like those liquorice pipes you could buy years ago with red sprinkles in the end, and you could pretend to smoke, that taste in the side of your mouth. Between your lips. Old newspapers at the bottom of a drawer.