Above the doorway there is a long narrow metal plate, coated with enamel. On white background, black lettering announcing Conservatoria General dell'Anagrafe. The enamel is chipped and cracked in places. The door is old, the last layer of brown paint is peeling, the wood grain, visible, reminiscent of a Striped skin.
There are five windows on the facade. As soon as you cross the threshold, you feel the smell of old paper. It is certain that not a day passes without new papers to enter the Conservatory, the individual male or female and outside continue to rise, but the smell never changes, primarily because the fate of each new sheet, after leaving the factory is to begin to age, and secondly because, usually more often on old sheets, but many times on new, not a day goes by that you do not write causes of death and their dates and locations, each bringing their strong odors, not always offensive to the olfactory mucosa, as demonstrated by certain aromatic scents from time to time, imperceptibly, through the atmosphere of the Conservatory General and the finest noses identify as a perfume composed of half pink and half of chrysanthemum.
José Saramago, All the names
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