The perfume smells like my Grandmother. Not as she smelled in recent years when I was an adult, but the way she smelled when I visited her and granddad when I was a kid. That’s a nice memory to explore, but how to use it in my math classes in Sister’s Academy? I don’t know. Maybe the different genre-workshops in my English classes should each bring a certain smell to inspire them. MAybe we could dillute the perfumes and measure its acidity for each spoonful of water added? We’ll see. It’s inspiring, anyway, just like it’s inspiring to hear my colleagues’ ideas and thought and to read their entries to the scrapbook.