JAPAN - The following is a translation of the Henshu Techo column from The Yomiuri Shimbun's Aug. 5 issue.

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The protagonist in Ryunosuke Akutagawa's short story "Yonosuke no Hanashi" (Talk of Yonosuke) reflects on his childhood, saying he was often bullied by mischief-making boys whenever he attended a private calligraphy class. Even as he reaches the prime of life, memories of those days spring to his mind whenever he smells the scent of Indian ink, Yonosuke says.

Almost all things are oddly linked to a sense of smell. This is true not only for Yonosuke in the novel, but for everyone.

There are things of the past that can be recalled through our eyes and ears. But memories conjured by scent often assail our minds suddenly and harshly, somewhat like tsunami that surge ashore in an instant.

The "olfactory time machines" that roll back the years vary from person to person--it might be the air that invades your nostrils when the plug of a plastic waterwing is pulled out, or it might be the fumes from a mosquito-repellent coil lit in a room one evening.

Gasoline prices are prohibitively high, dampening the desire to go on outings, and hotels and trains are sure to be crowded. Some want to see the Beijing Olympic Games on TV. For these reasons, many people might have given up on taking trips this summer.

"The joys and sorrows of childhood transported me once again," Yonosuke says, commenting on the pleasure of smelling the scent of Indian ink.

It would be nice to have time once in a while this summer to indulge in the memories of bygone years that can be invoked by scent.