07/03/2018
Minigolf
309 Reviews
Translated
Show original
Minigolf
Very helpful Review
7
To the funeral of a poet-- Edgar Allan Poe....
....or authors of a similar gloomy writing style, I would wear this scent. But also otherwise, if I felt like it
Hardly any fragrance I have smelt so far radiates this dark mysticism.
Here I see myself in the middle of storm-pitched old groups of trees on an ancient cemetery, where the inscriptions on the gravestones are only vaguely readable.
Rain, heat, snow and wind have all contributed to this. It is a cemetery of poets whose stories still fill the air here. Stories of Spook in the Fog,
Shadows in old cellars, creaking floorboards in unspeakable castles.
But they all have their own dark charm Like this perfume from Sosphiro.
"Misterioso", so his name, captured in a blue-violet bottle.
I can clearly recognize cedar and sandalwood in the scent, combined in such a way that it looks dark and almost dry. I still remember the old telegraph poles that still lived and served their purpose in our region until the mid-seventies. Wood, of course. As children, I and my friends believed that if you put your ear close to them, you can follow voices and conversations. A strange buzzing in there... and the imagination "read" many a message from it. And I also remember the smell of the wood of these masts. The bare wood, "oiled" with pine resin to protect it from the weather. It was a perfect match for the mysterious atmosphere.... resinous, dark, mysterious... like the buzzing of wires running more or less taut from mast to mast.
Vetyver then makes another contribution to this.
Like a mown field on which grain grew, now all sorts of grasses wild grasses that slowly become arid and release the "grassy, earthy" smell.
Finally, Labdanum and Amber take away the dry severity of the aromas, but still remain dark. Like fresh earth.... in a tree-covered area. The poet's cemetery comes to mind again. This tomb is intended for a special storyteller. For sometime in the future.... still far away.
If I have anything left of "Misteriosa," I'll wear it Long live this poet... so that still many have something of his eerie-mystical stories.
Here I see myself in the middle of storm-pitched old groups of trees on an ancient cemetery, where the inscriptions on the gravestones are only vaguely readable.
Rain, heat, snow and wind have all contributed to this. It is a cemetery of poets whose stories still fill the air here. Stories of Spook in the Fog,
Shadows in old cellars, creaking floorboards in unspeakable castles.
But they all have their own dark charm Like this perfume from Sosphiro.
"Misterioso", so his name, captured in a blue-violet bottle.
I can clearly recognize cedar and sandalwood in the scent, combined in such a way that it looks dark and almost dry. I still remember the old telegraph poles that still lived and served their purpose in our region until the mid-seventies. Wood, of course. As children, I and my friends believed that if you put your ear close to them, you can follow voices and conversations. A strange buzzing in there... and the imagination "read" many a message from it. And I also remember the smell of the wood of these masts. The bare wood, "oiled" with pine resin to protect it from the weather. It was a perfect match for the mysterious atmosphere.... resinous, dark, mysterious... like the buzzing of wires running more or less taut from mast to mast.
Vetyver then makes another contribution to this.
Like a mown field on which grain grew, now all sorts of grasses wild grasses that slowly become arid and release the "grassy, earthy" smell.
Finally, Labdanum and Amber take away the dry severity of the aromas, but still remain dark. Like fresh earth.... in a tree-covered area. The poet's cemetery comes to mind again. This tomb is intended for a special storyteller. For sometime in the future.... still far away.
If I have anything left of "Misteriosa," I'll wear it Long live this poet... so that still many have something of his eerie-mystical stories.
2 Comments
