08/22/2024
Ooonidda
15 Reviews
Translated
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Ooonidda
Out into the fog after cleaning
After spraying it on, the first thing I wondered was: "Is it the frog glass cleaner, finely sprayed, or the Octenisept with a touch of Light Blue added?"
Admittedly, not a groundbreaking experience.
Disappointed, the sample goes to the corner of the desk.
What a betrayal!
I am overcome with frustration - I had hoped for a fine, cool mist, something along the lines of a "lonely September morning in the field", perhaps even a hint of moss and forest. Instead, this familiar odeur de chemique after a slashed knee...
But I'm proven wrong: fog doesn't only exist in Central European pampas fantasies.
After a while, the cacophony of molecular disinfectants calms down, along with the drugstore's long-running burner, and somehow I can't help but think of a foggy October morning by the sea - not directly on the beach or at the harbor, but just above it, a little towards the viewpoint along the coast, on a quiet country road.
It's a slightly chilly morning; it has rained overnight after a reasonably warm day. The cold, damp and, yes, the mist mix with the ozony smell of evaporating liquid from the asphalt. The sea blurs in the wafts of mist, it is green to gray-blue and invites melancholy contemplation rather than swimming. The lichen on the cliffs on the coast below me smells earthy and a little like the salty sea.
Thank you for the olfactory journey home to the coast in the off-season, Mr. Sorcinelli.
Admittedly, not a groundbreaking experience.
Disappointed, the sample goes to the corner of the desk.
What a betrayal!
I am overcome with frustration - I had hoped for a fine, cool mist, something along the lines of a "lonely September morning in the field", perhaps even a hint of moss and forest. Instead, this familiar odeur de chemique after a slashed knee...
But I'm proven wrong: fog doesn't only exist in Central European pampas fantasies.
After a while, the cacophony of molecular disinfectants calms down, along with the drugstore's long-running burner, and somehow I can't help but think of a foggy October morning by the sea - not directly on the beach or at the harbor, but just above it, a little towards the viewpoint along the coast, on a quiet country road.
It's a slightly chilly morning; it has rained overnight after a reasonably warm day. The cold, damp and, yes, the mist mix with the ozony smell of evaporating liquid from the asphalt. The sea blurs in the wafts of mist, it is green to gray-blue and invites melancholy contemplation rather than swimming. The lichen on the cliffs on the coast below me smells earthy and a little like the salty sea.
Thank you for the olfactory journey home to the coast in the off-season, Mr. Sorcinelli.