Eau Ambrée Chabaud

Bright fruity lemon sherbet sweets or a tutti frutti chew without any sugar in. A waft of a light breeze blowing over the fruit bowl where someone has cut all the fruits in half.

A gap. The breeze suddenly stops. An empty space that gets gradually filled with the pot pourri from far away in the room next door. I am sitting in the middle of a large room with a wooden floor. The floor was polished a long while ago and the sweetish wax lingers, but ever so faintly. The french doors are slightly open and through the tiny gap I can get a waft of the garden flowers and the roses. The door to the long hall is open too and from the kitchen far away, I can just about smell the preparation of some spicy buns.

I am alone in this vast space. I feel the presence of my own shoes and handbag. This fragrance is 'a freshness' all on its own. These other elements are distant and fading in and out. I think it is just a dream. I think so..... I only smell the powder now from after my bath. It was a fading dream.