Mediterraneum Proteo Profumi 1993 Eau de Toilette

Little yellow lemon rays meet my nose, tickling and nudging with slightly green pricks, peeling away from a stream of marzipan-like viscosity that leads me to the bathroom. I look at myself kindly in the mirror and take a sip of Pina Colada, which surprisingly awaits me on the dresser. Herbs and woods, thickly wrapped in a vanilla-amber shell, unfold their aroma full-bodied, refreshing, but just enough so as not to detract from the coziness. Could it be that a pear has wandered into the cocktail? Definitely an excellent idea to leave it here. I let hot water run into the sink. The drifting beard hairs in the soapy water could convey signs of solid masculinity, but that is quickly caught again by gentle, slightly smoky vapors from the cocktail glass. I need to take another sip to keep the day’s wonderfully lemony-pear-like creaminess alive. The shaving process also proceeds in a slice-like manner. The mist makes it hard to see anything. It doesn’t matter, the magic potion is almost finished. At the bottom, caramelized foam, herb remnants, pine needles.

Somewhat drowsy from all the impressions, it seems best to me not to scare away the beauty of the day with any busyness, but to capture its energy with extended relaxation on the beach or in a Sicilian coastal village.
A rose cut flower arrangement is supposed to have been delivered to the windowsill for me. So be it, back into the box it goes, the midday sun stands golden in the sky and warms the cobbled streets, reflecting in the turquoise of the Ionian Sea. And one can quite clearly notice in which decade one currently finds oneself. But here it also fits, the beautiful life, which only becomes industrious when the longing for romance drives it, otherwise it glides along in all tranquility. Past times that one can devotedly surrender to for some intense hours.