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Dear
That with the love is already such a thing.
Unrequited one of the most disruptive feelings in the world, given yet something so beautiful, strong, sincere, liberating and yet also so fragile and vulnerable. In intimate embrace strong and stable and yet in its formation vulnerable to external influences. "Hearsay" Alexander O'Neal once sang in his classic precisely about those circumstances that can undermine this fragile construct in its genesis. Passion is something indispensable in love, inevitably fulfills not only their own dreams. An interplay of emotions orchestrated by nature via hormone concentration changes in the body. All quite simply explainable and yet so fascinating and possibly the core of interpersonal interaction. The satisfaction of the trivial need for recognition sees itself in love as the end of the line, which no longer needs to answer any questions. But it is also about the fact that the initial full belief and the unrestricted projection of one's own needs onto another person always also holds the danger that those cannot be completely fulfilled because it is simply impossible from an objective point of view. And nevertheless one lies straight in the initial togetherness at best in the arms, caresses itself and it develops a Ver[Bindung], which is nourished ever further by an internal feeling, which lets from the own actions a need develop from which one cannot get enough.
Romeo & Juliet are often cited as a prime example of a love-filled and also communally suicidally crushing relationship, which in its unreal completion describes a love that will forever remain a phantasm. Love is then a catalyst, an amplifier of feelings, which also intensifies the other feelings one carries within oneself while one's own self, driven to transformation at best, is only loosely recognized by the social environment. We had the feeling in the best case all already once.
And now you are gone, leaving behind intense swaths of amber vanilla that do not want to leave my mind. Almost overwhelming is the smell when you applied it and the entire room smelled like it.
I'll be honest with you, things have changed since we first met.
And now your smell manifests in my brain and never wants to leave.
With microscopic traces, the synaptic network has changed and adapted forever, as usual.
If only you had stayed.
Instead, my perfume cabinet is now adorned with a bottle of this unique, dreamlike fragrance beauty that completed your image forever. A picture of picturesque beauty.
When I think of it I see sun drenched barley fields while Santana plays a passionate solo with his electric guitar next to it.
Then silence.
We kiss forever and the sunset takes away all the trash and all the dirt that I carried with me all the, long way and that weighed me down.
Then there is only love.
A feeling that we would all want forever and that can only exist through the special, the unique.
And whenever I loosen the lid from the bottle and give a spray, it is unpreservable again for a small moment there.
In words impossible to describe and yet with the title Amber, Floral, Sensual Musk.
Unrequited one of the most disruptive feelings in the world, given yet something so beautiful, strong, sincere, liberating and yet also so fragile and vulnerable. In intimate embrace strong and stable and yet in its formation vulnerable to external influences. "Hearsay" Alexander O'Neal once sang in his classic precisely about those circumstances that can undermine this fragile construct in its genesis. Passion is something indispensable in love, inevitably fulfills not only their own dreams. An interplay of emotions orchestrated by nature via hormone concentration changes in the body. All quite simply explainable and yet so fascinating and possibly the core of interpersonal interaction. The satisfaction of the trivial need for recognition sees itself in love as the end of the line, which no longer needs to answer any questions. But it is also about the fact that the initial full belief and the unrestricted projection of one's own needs onto another person always also holds the danger that those cannot be completely fulfilled because it is simply impossible from an objective point of view. And nevertheless one lies straight in the initial togetherness at best in the arms, caresses itself and it develops a Ver[Bindung], which is nourished ever further by an internal feeling, which lets from the own actions a need develop from which one cannot get enough.
Romeo & Juliet are often cited as a prime example of a love-filled and also communally suicidally crushing relationship, which in its unreal completion describes a love that will forever remain a phantasm. Love is then a catalyst, an amplifier of feelings, which also intensifies the other feelings one carries within oneself while one's own self, driven to transformation at best, is only loosely recognized by the social environment. We had the feeling in the best case all already once.
And now you are gone, leaving behind intense swaths of amber vanilla that do not want to leave my mind. Almost overwhelming is the smell when you applied it and the entire room smelled like it.
I'll be honest with you, things have changed since we first met.
And now your smell manifests in my brain and never wants to leave.
With microscopic traces, the synaptic network has changed and adapted forever, as usual.
If only you had stayed.
Instead, my perfume cabinet is now adorned with a bottle of this unique, dreamlike fragrance beauty that completed your image forever. A picture of picturesque beauty.
When I think of it I see sun drenched barley fields while Santana plays a passionate solo with his electric guitar next to it.
Then silence.
We kiss forever and the sunset takes away all the trash and all the dirt that I carried with me all the, long way and that weighed me down.
Then there is only love.
A feeling that we would all want forever and that can only exist through the special, the unique.
And whenever I loosen the lid from the bottle and give a spray, it is unpreservable again for a small moment there.
In words impossible to describe and yet with the title Amber, Floral, Sensual Musk.
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