Baghdad ٢ Maison Anthony Marmin
5
The Market in Baghdad
It is 786 A.D., I find myself in an Arab garment with a turban on my head in Baghdad. From afar, I see the domes of the palace of Caliph Harun Ar Rashid, who leads the Arab and Islamic world with sovereignty.
On my way to the market, I walk with my leather sandals on the sandy ground of the city, passing by the old mud houses.
Upon arriving at the market, I am immediately enveloped by a very strong projecting scent of saffron and roses. Almost piercing but somehow also pleasant and nostalgic.
The market is so large that one can easily get lost. I continue walking and manage to leave the rose and saffron section after 20 minutes. Now I am surrounded by spice shops.
The cool winds that sweep through the market carry the scent of saffron and roses with them, blending with all the spices here. It is an excellent and unique olfactory experience unfolding before me.
After 7 hours of strolling through the grand and prosperous city of 1001 Nights, Baghdad, I head home to lie down in bed and let the day wind down. As soon as my eyes close, I find myself here in my bed in Germany. Demotivated by a dream in which I wanted to live forever, I notice in my right hand an attar named Baghdad 2.
I twist the cap of the bottle and am seized by the same olfactory experience that I had in my dream.
On my way to the market, I walk with my leather sandals on the sandy ground of the city, passing by the old mud houses.
Upon arriving at the market, I am immediately enveloped by a very strong projecting scent of saffron and roses. Almost piercing but somehow also pleasant and nostalgic.
The market is so large that one can easily get lost. I continue walking and manage to leave the rose and saffron section after 20 minutes. Now I am surrounded by spice shops.
The cool winds that sweep through the market carry the scent of saffron and roses with them, blending with all the spices here. It is an excellent and unique olfactory experience unfolding before me.
After 7 hours of strolling through the grand and prosperous city of 1001 Nights, Baghdad, I head home to lie down in bed and let the day wind down. As soon as my eyes close, I find myself here in my bed in Germany. Demotivated by a dream in which I wanted to live forever, I notice in my right hand an attar named Baghdad 2.
I twist the cap of the bottle and am seized by the same olfactory experience that I had in my dream.
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