White On White - Three Xerjoff 2022

Roses nestled on leaves, enveloped by figs, draw me into their spell. Bitter, deep, special - yet elusive. Fitting for our time, the question of defined gender remains diffuse. In a constant state of evolution. And even though I would like to open a drawer, I cannot. A bitter sweetness emerges. It almost glues the finest filaments together before it slips away from me. Slightly green, yet still acceptable to me. The scent remains strong, yet it loses itself or does it only lose me? I do not know. A play of sticky glue, rose, and leaves. The whirlpool of confusion sucks me in, spins me around, and nothing is clear anymore. Up, down, left, right - everything is crazy, everything is one.
I can grasp nothing. The reach for the bottle is filled with questions. Will I find answers with another test? Who knows.