" There’s this smell that only exists in
Milwaukee in October. The thin smoky jet of laundry after the rain. Wet leaves half-drying, half getting wet again. Open PBR cans,
cigarettes, leather. A mix of youth and nostalgia, of losing something
as you’re living it. The feeling, both terrifying and comforting, that life would always
be exactly like this. "

― Zhanna Slor