Let’s start with poetry. Who has not read Michael Ondaatje’s highly-charged poem The Cinnamon Peeler and been left breathless by the final lines:
“I am the cinnamon peeler’s wife.
I have sat with cinnamon peelers, all lean men with rolling fingers. They sit cross-legged, working the bark with quiet concentration, and the scent of cinnamon does indeed fill the warm air.