Top Notes 
Italian lemon
Orange
Sicilian grapefruit
Heart Notes 
Corsican verbena
Base Notes 
Cedar
Palonera
467 Reviews
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Palonera
Top Review
38
Lifesaver. Almost.
An oven.
The world must have turned into an oven, one with convection and the grill switched on.
No idea what the Holy Spirit was thinking - it was too hot for me to understand the connection, my brain was working slower than the rest of my sluggish body.
Had it ever been this hot at Pentecost?
I didn’t know, my memory had switched off, ultimately it didn’t matter - it was hot, very hot, way too hot, even for midsummer it would have been remarkably hot, even more so for this year’s Pentecost.
I was no longer dreaming of days by the pool, I was dreaming of a cozy freezer, where I could stay until Peter or whoever had baked enough.
Eventually, this heat had to pass, this scorching, burning, life-energy-sucking Sahara heat that had scorched the yesterday bright green lawn and finished off the last snail-protected pea seedlings.
Eventually, eventually - please...
There isn’t much that helps me function on days like these.
Coffee, strong and sweet and hot with spoonfuls of crema.
Strawberries straight from the field, scalp massages from my loved one, and scents that are no longer just scents, but lifesavers.
Their freshness hisses when it touches the skin, clear and pure like mountain lakes, like glaciers, cool and sun-soaked like plump yellow fruit bombs, smooth and firm in my hand, anticipating the sharp cut.
Scents like this.
Bitter and herbaceous yet delicately sweet, gathering water in my mouth, tickling, expanding the nose, the lungs, green and yellow and cool and gentle.
Nothing stings, nothing bites, no bath and no kitchen - peels and zests, leaf and wood, eyes closed, their image on the retina, plastic, authentic, within reach.
For a moment, for a breath - which fades away far too quickly.
The world must have turned into an oven, one with convection and the grill switched on.
No idea what the Holy Spirit was thinking - it was too hot for me to understand the connection, my brain was working slower than the rest of my sluggish body.
Had it ever been this hot at Pentecost?
I didn’t know, my memory had switched off, ultimately it didn’t matter - it was hot, very hot, way too hot, even for midsummer it would have been remarkably hot, even more so for this year’s Pentecost.
I was no longer dreaming of days by the pool, I was dreaming of a cozy freezer, where I could stay until Peter or whoever had baked enough.
Eventually, this heat had to pass, this scorching, burning, life-energy-sucking Sahara heat that had scorched the yesterday bright green lawn and finished off the last snail-protected pea seedlings.
Eventually, eventually - please...
There isn’t much that helps me function on days like these.
Coffee, strong and sweet and hot with spoonfuls of crema.
Strawberries straight from the field, scalp massages from my loved one, and scents that are no longer just scents, but lifesavers.
Their freshness hisses when it touches the skin, clear and pure like mountain lakes, like glaciers, cool and sun-soaked like plump yellow fruit bombs, smooth and firm in my hand, anticipating the sharp cut.
Scents like this.
Bitter and herbaceous yet delicately sweet, gathering water in my mouth, tickling, expanding the nose, the lungs, green and yellow and cool and gentle.
Nothing stings, nothing bites, no bath and no kitchen - peels and zests, leaf and wood, eyes closed, their image on the retina, plastic, authentic, within reach.
For a moment, for a breath - which fades away far too quickly.
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Sonnenwende
