The air that night was bath and soap, something about it left you feeling warm and clean.
At the kiss of night the air took on a welcoming soothing quality.
The sea-brine air brought with it the levity of the birds.
In the woodland, the loamy air had a way of cocooning the soul and inviting butterfly wings to grow.
Bathed in the starlit black the air refreshed my soul as if my reboot button had been hit.
There is a kind of spring fragranced air that grows wings on angel kin.
The air on that planet had a rainbow swirl, as if bright inks were dropped into a current with precision. On the skin it felt as silk on a hot day, cool and smooth. It eddied around fingers as if it were water in some magic wishing well. Clarissa watched it, allowing time to stand still just for her, breathing it in.
There was a freshness to the air that invited the feet to run and jump.
She inhaled the air as if she'd risen from the deep ocean.
The air swirled and eddied around them as if they were the rocks within a great and wide riverbed.
The air was an anxious swirl of drops, wind-freed from gravity.