Top Notes 
Bitter orange
Cinnamon
Coriander
Ginger
Heart Notes 
Fir
Pine
Clove
Peony
Plum
Norbflixtamor
Base Notes 
Ambergris
Violet
Floyd
630 Reviews
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Floyd
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25
How I Entered the Inside of a Needle to Reach a Warm Snow Globe
It all began when I stared out of the bathroom window into the narrow red canyons of brick. Just moments ago, the familiar surf was rushing through the arteries of the evening city, everything seemed to be blue hour, as the sky turned to grated orange peel, the bitter shavings swirling like snow through the street, driven by gusts of ethereal cloves, in a cutting sharp ginger rain, wind-whirling spice from coriander, warm-wild cinnamon dust, and an approaching weather wall of eucalyptus.
Then everything was still, and I found myself inside a needle. From within, it was impossible for me to determine which wood it belonged to, still cloves were with me in the needle, bright resins pulsing through the green husk, clear camphor oozing sharply over the shell and forming a shimmering window. A light-shy corner in a forest full of shadows, where luminous beings hover like healing spirits.
Green was the sea in the warming tub, where I danced dreamily in the fading foam, my upper lip at the surface, palaces puffing in dreams: towers of ethereal soap bubbles in the pine foam bath of childhood.
Lost in thought, I linger in one of the bubbles, which in slow motion begins to resin its dome like an amber snow globe. The ice-blue eucalyptus flakes fall slowly around me, still bitter yet increasingly sweet the impression hour by hour. In the small round ghost forest, I believe I can smell ripening plums, now that the needles no longer burst and camphor resins shoot. And before that golden-brown amber bell in the fireplace, a fire flickers warmly, its smoke swirling more and more through the snow globe, a breathing warm creature.
**
Khanbaliq is truly extraordinary. Sharp and bitter in the top note, ethereally dark green-resinous in the heart, it develops into a warm-smoky amber base threaded with the long shadows of conifers. Flowers are nothing but letters in the pyramid. Pine sauna and pine foam bath could at best only watch as I entered the inside of a needle to reach a warm snow globe.
(With thanks to Mörderbiene)
Then everything was still, and I found myself inside a needle. From within, it was impossible for me to determine which wood it belonged to, still cloves were with me in the needle, bright resins pulsing through the green husk, clear camphor oozing sharply over the shell and forming a shimmering window. A light-shy corner in a forest full of shadows, where luminous beings hover like healing spirits.
Green was the sea in the warming tub, where I danced dreamily in the fading foam, my upper lip at the surface, palaces puffing in dreams: towers of ethereal soap bubbles in the pine foam bath of childhood.
Lost in thought, I linger in one of the bubbles, which in slow motion begins to resin its dome like an amber snow globe. The ice-blue eucalyptus flakes fall slowly around me, still bitter yet increasingly sweet the impression hour by hour. In the small round ghost forest, I believe I can smell ripening plums, now that the needles no longer burst and camphor resins shoot. And before that golden-brown amber bell in the fireplace, a fire flickers warmly, its smoke swirling more and more through the snow globe, a breathing warm creature.
**
Khanbaliq is truly extraordinary. Sharp and bitter in the top note, ethereally dark green-resinous in the heart, it develops into a warm-smoky amber base threaded with the long shadows of conifers. Flowers are nothing but letters in the pyramid. Pine sauna and pine foam bath could at best only watch as I entered the inside of a needle to reach a warm snow globe.
(With thanks to Mörderbiene)
21 Comments
Ergoproxy
Pluto
FvSpee
Kylesa
Mörderbiene
Butterfly89
Globomanni
