The slightly sweet, rank smell of decay, accompanied by more scurrying. Squirrels had burrowed between the walls, and one had obviously not survived the relocation. The stench permeated everything, everywhere, and was inescapable. The landlord shrugged, said it would eventually go away, but between the constant scattering noises of feet and the fear of electrical wires spontaneously catching fire and the saturating smell of death he felt as caged in his apartment, spartan though it was, as he felt trapped in a diorama of Hades behind the butcher counter at work.
reading Literary History of Persia, the poetry of Attar