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Crazylibellule & The Poppies L'Olfactive - Ce soir au bout du monde
£54.00
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4 instalments of £13.50 with clearpay Learn more
Crazylilbellule & The Poppies created these olfactory compositions around three moments, so let your imagination wander and narrate your own story . . . Ce soir au bout du monde . . . (Tonight at the end of the world . . .) is the olfactory memory of the evening May 9th at Sainte-Barbe in France: A vaporization, evocation of a summer evening on Sainte-Barbe Hill, in the French Basque Country. He was waiting for her, she would certainly be late, but on a summer evening, everything can be forgiven . . . The backwash of the water at the foot of the villa was bringing a peaceful quietness to the mauve evening sky. He could hear her voice upstairs . . . Here she was, her fragrance preceding her presence. Her colourful dress was floating or pressed against her skin while she was moving. An amber scented memory was filing her shoulders, she was laughing, wrapped in an unknown scent. He regained his breath. What was this new perfume? How could she turn the night upside down this way? She started to laugh and this laugh, young and elegant, disconcerted him a bit more. The nape of her neck was playing with the moon . . . sophisticated and free fragrances provoking yet terrible refined came to him. Ylang honey . . . They were alone on the terrace, he shut his eyes, this perfume was hers and only hers. While smelling it, it also became his.
- Crazylibellule & The Poppies
Crazylibellule & The Poppies L'Olfactive - Ce soir au bout du monde
£54.00
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-
4 instalments of £13.50 with clearpay Learn more
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Crazylilbellule & The Poppies created these olfactory compositions around three moments, so let your imagination wander and narrate your own story . . . Ce soir au bout du monde . . . (Tonight at the end of the world . . .) is the olfactory memory of the evening May 9th at Sainte-Barbe in France: A vaporization, evocation of a summer evening on Sainte-Barbe Hill, in the French Basque Country. He was waiting for her, she would certainly be late, but on a summer evening, everything can be forgiven . . . The backwash of the water at the foot of the villa was bringing a peaceful quietness to the mauve evening sky. He could hear her voice upstairs . . . Here she was, her fragrance preceding her presence. Her colourful dress was floating or pressed against her skin while she was moving. An amber scented memory was filing her shoulders, she was laughing, wrapped in an unknown scent. He regained his breath. What was this new perfume? How could she turn the night upside down this way? She started to laugh and this laugh, young and elegant, disconcerted him a bit more. The nape of her neck was playing with the moon . . . sophisticated and free fragrances provoking yet terrible refined came to him. Ylang honey . . . They were alone on the terrace, he shut his eyes, this perfume was hers and only hers. While smelling it, it also became his.
- Crazylibellule & The Poppies
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