If I see and taste a maple bar, I am immediately with one of my beloved friends. When I smell bread baking and see green grass, another friend pops into my head. The scent of Doritos (nacho, it was the only kind I think we had in the late 70’s) reminds me of not just school buses (yes, we could eat on our buses sometimes), but one of my friends who played flute with me.
Not all of my friends have texture, scent, or flavor. However, the ones that do will forever remain in my senses.