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01/24/2020
Floyd
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Leather amber moon landscape
In front of my eyes the colour in the bottle, I see the saffron sinking into it, far too quickly the warm orange, and the sweet sun has already disappeared. Lost at first and fascinatingly groping through patina shreds and darkness hastening, the smell sharpens my gloomy view of a lightless landscape of leather.
Old and coarse and tanned black, the area is sharply separated from the evening and even before the grey amber moon rises, other aromas come into play, crocus blossoms bloom as if the sun had previously set in it on a meadow of jasmine, sensually sweet and yet caught in the leather.
When after thirty minutes the amber rises, it reflects as sweetly as dew on the leather, stands grey like a glowing star at its zenith, draws moon-coloured lakes into gloomy valleys, wafts of incense mist drift through the land, Arabic sweet and balsamic, the flowers blow away from the meadows, even after an hour they already smoke and what remains is absolutely fantastic: For many more silent hours, the moon throws the evening saffron down, broken by the amber into dark resins that crept over the leather until the lakes reflect a dark brown and the black nuances freeze over in the morning.
Old and coarse and tanned black, the area is sharply separated from the evening and even before the grey amber moon rises, other aromas come into play, crocus blossoms bloom as if the sun had previously set in it on a meadow of jasmine, sensually sweet and yet caught in the leather.
When after thirty minutes the amber rises, it reflects as sweetly as dew on the leather, stands grey like a glowing star at its zenith, draws moon-coloured lakes into gloomy valleys, wafts of incense mist drift through the land, Arabic sweet and balsamic, the flowers blow away from the meadows, even after an hour they already smoke and what remains is absolutely fantastic: For many more silent hours, the moon throws the evening saffron down, broken by the amber into dark resins that crept over the leather until the lakes reflect a dark brown and the black nuances freeze over in the morning.
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