06/16/2018
Can777
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The White Dragon
Deep and firm, the samurai was lost in his prayers. He was hardly seen because the prayer hall with the incense from the two huge golden kettles standing on the left and right side of the prayer shrine smoked so much that the room sank into a kind of semitransparent mist. Only the silhouette of the kneeling samurai could be seen from behind, who remained motionless and meditative in front of the shrine.
Buddhist prayers were heard. A choir of monks sang the old, holy scriptures in a kind of endless loop. Their singing sounded like the deep humming of hornets. You couldn't see her in the milky incense mist, but her humming song seemed to come from everywhere. Then the samurai moved slowly and raised with both hands the old, reverent sword from the cradle of the shrine. Slowly he pulled the sword out of the sheath until only the silvery white steel was visible. Then he began the ritual of soul purification.
The oils were precious. They stood in meticulous order before the one on the shrine. He reached for the brush bound from straw flowers and carried the first layer of oil on the blade. It was the finest vetiver oil earthy-green in fragrance. Then followed the second layer of cypress oil delicately acidic in fragrance. Then the third layer of cedar oil ethereally woody in fragrance. He carefully spread the individual layers with the brush on the blade. Then he began to polish her in even strokes with a silk cloth until she shone into an almost sterile shimmer.
Shortly afterwards he turned to the amber teak handle of the sword. Again he took the brush and painted the last layer with it. It was a mixture of the finest patchouli oil and the blackest coffee. In the smell delicately bitter and gently spicy. He carefully polished the fine oil into the teakwood handle until it shone in a matt, black tone almost as if it had been lacquered.
The cleansing ritual was completed!
The incense mist in the room had become so dense that the samurai could hardly be seen. Slowly he got up from his squat and turned around. His face was decorated with an ivory mask in the shape of a dragon. His lacquer-black hair was tied to a stern ponytail and fell over his shoulder as he turned. Almost hovering he went up to the center of the room and started his exercise of meditation.
He took the sword in both hands and led it with skilful movements against the white wall of incense surrounding him. The blade of the sword became faster and faster
pulled through the white smoke, creating a fine metallic chant that rose to an awesome melody with the monks' humming prayers. With each pull of the sword the smoke became less. Step by step the samurai pushed the foggy smoke aside.
Then he fell back on his knees and put the sword back into his vagina. The air in the room was suddenly crystal clear and pure. The smoke was gone,... obviously! But not quite!
Above the head of the samurai hovered a large white dragon made of dense incense. Slowly he meandered down to the resting samurai. He seemed to sniff at him gently before wrapping himself almost tenderly around the samurai like a white veil of light and smoke. The samurai took off his mask and laid it on the ground in front of him. Then he closed his eyes and took a deep breath and absorbed the white dragon with a single stroke until the dragon disappeared in him. Now he had reached absolute perfection and deepest, pure peace...now he was free!
Kyoto
There's nothing much left to say about this scent. I wrote everything down in my own way. Except one thing! The first bottle of Kyoto was sold to me by a Japanese guy with the words: "This perfume is absolutely awesome and perfect!
A man may defeat a thousand times a thousand men in one battle,
but the greatest fighter is the one who defeats himself.
-Buddha
Buddhist prayers were heard. A choir of monks sang the old, holy scriptures in a kind of endless loop. Their singing sounded like the deep humming of hornets. You couldn't see her in the milky incense mist, but her humming song seemed to come from everywhere. Then the samurai moved slowly and raised with both hands the old, reverent sword from the cradle of the shrine. Slowly he pulled the sword out of the sheath until only the silvery white steel was visible. Then he began the ritual of soul purification.
The oils were precious. They stood in meticulous order before the one on the shrine. He reached for the brush bound from straw flowers and carried the first layer of oil on the blade. It was the finest vetiver oil earthy-green in fragrance. Then followed the second layer of cypress oil delicately acidic in fragrance. Then the third layer of cedar oil ethereally woody in fragrance. He carefully spread the individual layers with the brush on the blade. Then he began to polish her in even strokes with a silk cloth until she shone into an almost sterile shimmer.
Shortly afterwards he turned to the amber teak handle of the sword. Again he took the brush and painted the last layer with it. It was a mixture of the finest patchouli oil and the blackest coffee. In the smell delicately bitter and gently spicy. He carefully polished the fine oil into the teakwood handle until it shone in a matt, black tone almost as if it had been lacquered.
The cleansing ritual was completed!
The incense mist in the room had become so dense that the samurai could hardly be seen. Slowly he got up from his squat and turned around. His face was decorated with an ivory mask in the shape of a dragon. His lacquer-black hair was tied to a stern ponytail and fell over his shoulder as he turned. Almost hovering he went up to the center of the room and started his exercise of meditation.
He took the sword in both hands and led it with skilful movements against the white wall of incense surrounding him. The blade of the sword became faster and faster
pulled through the white smoke, creating a fine metallic chant that rose to an awesome melody with the monks' humming prayers. With each pull of the sword the smoke became less. Step by step the samurai pushed the foggy smoke aside.
Then he fell back on his knees and put the sword back into his vagina. The air in the room was suddenly crystal clear and pure. The smoke was gone,... obviously! But not quite!
Above the head of the samurai hovered a large white dragon made of dense incense. Slowly he meandered down to the resting samurai. He seemed to sniff at him gently before wrapping himself almost tenderly around the samurai like a white veil of light and smoke. The samurai took off his mask and laid it on the ground in front of him. Then he closed his eyes and took a deep breath and absorbed the white dragon with a single stroke until the dragon disappeared in him. Now he had reached absolute perfection and deepest, pure peace...now he was free!
Kyoto
There's nothing much left to say about this scent. I wrote everything down in my own way. Except one thing! The first bottle of Kyoto was sold to me by a Japanese guy with the words: "This perfume is absolutely awesome and perfect!
A man may defeat a thousand times a thousand men in one battle,
but the greatest fighter is the one who defeats himself.
-Buddha
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