Word: scent
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...crusade against global warming is personified in his own bodily decay. Beard, the lifelong womanizer, neglects his body against his better judgment and the repeated urging of his doctors. Repeated resolutions to lose weight, exercise, and cut back on his daily drinking fall by the wayside as the vinegary scent of potato chips, cool sensation of a scotch-on-the-rocks, and plush comfort of a hotel bed overwhelm Beard’s reptilian brain. This subtle allusion to the problems inherent in collective action against global warming is the site of McEwan’s true argument...
...certain business-oriented chap was frantically conveying his concerns over orientation to a future Cantabridgian, pita-wrapped Greek delicacy in hand all the while. For one special birthday bird, it was the thunder that was chocolate-flavored this year, not the cake, which was instead perfumed with the scent of intoxicating herbs. ‘Girl’ needs to make sure that when she heads to a party with the intention of tracking down some supplements, she doesn’t end up getting dragged out, kicking and screaming, by a freshman. Maybe two touchy-feely foxes kept...
...stairs. Outside, halfway between the checkpoint and the hotel, a crater 6 ft. (1.8 m) deep smoldered. All told, 37 people were killed and close to 100 wounded in the attacks, which came amid rancorous sectarian debate over Iraq's looming elections. Looking back, I'm gripped by the scent of oranges cutting through the smell of charred vehicles and flesh: tart, from fruit not yet ripe, shaken early from the trees by the blast and scattered amid the debris...
...divorcing while dying - or at least facing down death - just one of those inexplicable things famous people do, like releasing a signature scent or giving their children embarrassing names? Why would anyone go through it, considering the irreconcilable differences they already have with their mortality...
...driver whose brother is missing. Another is showing the shrapnel from what is likely a piece of the exploded minibus. It crashed through his window on the eighth floor of the Hamra Hotel. In my mind I walk back through the day and I'm gripped by the scent of oranges, which were splattered around the bomb site, small spheres of color in contrast to the blackened rubble. It kept cutting through the smells of charred vehicles and humans as I watched the aftermath, waiting in vain to speak to a mother whose daughter was rushed to the hospital...