"Turning 59, and in a post-menopausal, post-COVID, empty-nested existential crisis, Jennifer never envisioned herself remaining in Jacksonville, the north Florida southern Bible Belt town that has been known as, "The City That Smells" and "The Murder Capital of Florida." Yet, she's still there. Thirty years ago, she arrived with a 3-year-old in tow and a wake of academic and artistic failures behind, and found a tribe of artists, and her creative calling, writing and performing. She flourished creating a life, home, and music seemingly on its way to international success. Five years later, while in west Africa --far from her adopted city-- she experiences her most prolific artistic period yet and with it an unexpected love affair and marriage that quickly turns violent and continues through a four-year period that includes two babies and a lot of hiding. After her escape from that marriage, she reemerges to a renaissance of art, family and community and eventually finds love again in Spain. But that was a long time ago. Now in 2023, she experiences writer's block and imposter syndrome at the same time. Once a community activist and organizer, now she feels ineffective. She's a professor at a community college, but doesn't consider herself a "real academic." She is a playwright, and a singer/songwriter, yet she's certain that she's not a "real artist." It's been a while since she's written or performed music. On top of that it doesn't look like it's coming back. And, it never really got off the ground in the first place - at least not the way she thought it would. She imagines that if she lived in a "real city," maybe things would have turned out differently. Jennifer mulls over her condition while tearing down her 82-year-old kitchen in the house where she's lived for decades. She peels away the figurative and literal layers of linoleum, paint, and pine, uncovering the pentimento underneath. She pores over the found stains of violence of the past, and finds important gris gris: sea glass, bones and shells stuffed in tea pots high on shelves, written quotes and phone numbers and her lyrics written on the walls behind the plates, love letters, even her three children's umbilical cord stumps-- cherished mementoes-- among the sacred objects once buried, now temporarily transferred for safekeeping during the renovation. The sights, sounds, and feel of the past revived through the objects evoke stories that have keys rooted in this city, she tries recapture their smells to unlock her creativity again. She begins writing letters to Jacksonville, whom she reluctantly calls "Jax," and still refuses to call home. As she conjures the smells from her memory, she crafts the letters to Jax. She works on their relationship-from her first time she smells Jacksonville, forty years before at a Stevie Nicks concert to unexpectedly moving to the city for medical care for her daughter and mother, to writing and performing, studying and traveling, love affairs, racists, shootings, miscarriages, marriages, births and deaths. But art, passion, and being "home" seemed easier when it was harder -her artistic, philosophical, and intellectual inspiration- all intertwine with the magic --and at times-- infuriating city."