Winterfell, she might have said. I smell snow and smoke and pine needles. I smell the stables. I smell Hodor laughing, and Jon and Robb battling in the yard, and Sansa singing about some stupid lady fair. I smell the crypts where the stone kings sit. I smell hot bread baking. I smell the godswood. I smell my wolf. I smell her fur, almost as if she were still beside me.
"I don't smell anything," she said.”
― George R.R. Martin, A Feast for Crows
My answer would be slightly different than Arya's, but it is fascinating how the smell can bring memories back in such a vivid way. For me the smell of candles brings memories of nights in a house by the sea...both cold and warm, winter and summer evenings, strangely similar, endlessly long...the sensation of hot wax on my fingertips and the little wax creations that I used to make...The smell of candles burning...being lulled to sleep by the s…