I never realised that it was jasmine. I would walk past this scrawny dried up ball of twine each day, but come spring, it revivificates into a green ball with pink buds and white flowers. And when the breeze strokes it, you can catch a delicious whiff of it.

My neighbour's boyfriend stole some and placed it outside her door today. The whole corridor was an olfactory sensation. It provided the impetus for me to steal a bunch of the pretty pink buds and delicate white petals for my room. Aiding in my little act of iniquity, was the fact that it was in the wee hours of the morn, and few if any, would witness my act of vandalism. I might steal another bunch later when I watch the early morning cartoons.

However, I think the scent is overpowering my olfactory nerves. Short-circuited the cells that carry the scent to the brain, simply because I have been breathing in the scented air for far too long. Too much of a good thing.

Night blooming jasmine smells richer and far more luxurious than the jasmine bushes that lies outside The Lost One's old room, or the ones that grow at home. Those flowers were more delicate, and refined in scent. It does not conjure up mental images of the jasmine that Indian ladies wear in their hair. That jasmine is a single note of pure flower. This has a more powdery undertone, with several charged layers, one of which smells like watermelon candy. An exquisite bouquet of scents.