Papavero Soave L'Erbolario 2011

Milton, the English poet, spent half of his life in Italy.
He called it his paradise.

When he went blind in old age, his friends brought him back to foggy, cold England.
There, he sat in the evening before his fireplace, holding an ancient, dried olive in his hand and smiled.

Milton once said: "When I hold it in my hand, this little fruit, I am back where I was once so happy. Then I can see everything again, Florence and Naples, Milan and Rome, my paradise. I now hold my paradise in my hand."

I do not hold my paradise in my hand; I wear it on my skin: Papavero Soave!

Poppies glowing fire-red in the evening sun in wild meadows, intoxicating me with their intense scent.

Warm summer wind carrying the velvety scent of blooming roses, wild lilac, and sweet jasmine.

The shady coolness of the trees in the evening, warm wood mixed with smoky
amber, spicy patchouli, and soft vanilla.

A scent of warm sensuality like velvet on my brown skin
- lush, erotic, feminine.

And when this summer is over and I sit by my fireplace in winter, I will wear Papavero, close my eyes, and smile
- and have my summer evening paradise on my skin.

All beauty is fleeting,
tenderness, touches, memories, all of it fades, drifts away, and is soon forgotten, but sometimes a dried olive or a wonderful scent can preserve beautiful moments longer!