The world is raw, no doubt about it. Whether it has become rougher or less raw than before is not for me to judge. This question is probably better addressed by experts, sociologists and philosophers. But there is no doubt that it is raw. And "raw" does not only mean "raw behaviour", but first of all "raw" like "raw meat". Unprotected, uncovered, vulnerable to large-scale attack. It is only in response to this ubiquitous sensitivity that the raw behaviour sets in. From "crudo", to stay in Italian, then becomes "crudele", which means something like "cruel", "brutal". "Crudele", it seems to me, is always a behavioral activation directed outward, a reaction to "crudo", which means a state that one experiences in oneself.
*
I'll pass the day in review: I have a work appointment in the morning in a small town, I don't know the street and adjust the navigation system. After some time I reach another small town and think I could go to the Sparkasse, very quickly. I drive along the small road I know, the Sparkasse is on the opposite lane and there I discover a free parking space between two cars. 9.Fifty-eight o'clock. At 10:15, my appointment is a few miles away. The navigation system leaves me ten minutes, which I do not need in any case. I drive about 40 m straight on to a very small roundabout, not much bigger than a football. I round the roundabout, am now on the previous oncoming lane, reach the parking lot after about 20 m and flash. Already in this moment I hear loud honking, which I do not associate with me. I look in the rear-view mirror - was there anything? Pedestrians on the lane? Far from it. While I am still getting out of the car, a woman rolls down the window of her car on the current oncoming lane on which I have come.
* The fragrance develops quickly in a very pleasant, sweet, delicious direction. It smells of various sweet spices, especially cinnamon, but there is also something sugar-sweet in the dough, which gives me, like others here, the impression of a freshly baked apple pie. Warm and sweet and full of cinnamon and cloves.
*
She's screaming. l "ve been standing here for five minutes. You saw that." I am confused and I express this as well: "I don't know what it is all about at the moment... I wasn't here three minutes ago." I say this specifically to make clear that she was obviously BACK to me, because she hasn't reached the roundabout yet and instead obviously has the plan to cross the road and just squeeze into the parking lot against the direction of travel. I definitely did not see that, apart from the traffic violation, so what, when. It took me a maximum of 45 seconds to see the parking lot, circle the roundabout and park. How could she stand there for five minutes? So far, so good. There is nothing special about getting into conflicts in road traffic. But that is not all. She starts another roar after she has heard my perplexity: "Oh, what the heck, you are known as stupid at ... (the workplace) where you are." ?????? I fall into a state of shock, absolutely incapable of moving, incapable even of moving my eyes towards my passenger or towards the license plate. I can't move and I'm completely shocked. It is one of the rare experiences that you should have had to be attacked in public by complete strangers you have never seen, and it is one of the very unique experiences to have to deal with people who obviously know you, already identify you when you are still sitting in the car, while you yourself are idiotically, not to say stupidly, groping in the dark. Hardly anything crosses the border of the private as much as a public attack, and without another word I go into the Sparkasse, take out money and leave the building a minute later in the direction of my car, to see them, who in the meantime have taken a gap in the parking lot next to the Sparkasse, crossing the small forecourt. Although I move away from the building and do not see it from the front, it starts again: "That's how you know them... (workplace). Shame on you." That hit home.
Yelling in the street over a parking space is crudo. To become personal without revealing one's identity is crudele. It is a mean and cowardly and at the same time rather uneducated way to get rid of already existing aggression. I don't put on this pair of shoes, on the one hand because I am in the right in terms of traffic law - I drove around the roundabout without seeing that behind me (not in front of me) someone else wanted to get in there as well. On the other hand, because I am not known as stupid in my job, there is nothing to discuss and nothing to think about. Nevertheless, I feel very concerned, because this crossing of a private border by an unknown person has something of a war-like condition. I can't imagine everyone would behave so aggressively in public.
* And then - after hours - something softer, more restrained develops, which pushes the fireworks of spice impressions and associations of warm tarte tatin, the acidity of baked apples, cinnamon and cloves, into the background and makes room for a broader, warmer base, a sweetness that is no longer so spicy, but rather a softer, vanilla-like fullness that spreads and has a harmonizing effect.**
"Cruda" - that can be a woman. And a man can be crudo. Unprotected, an open target for unchecked attacks. Painfully unprotected at times. Does it have to become a crudele? The word on Thursday says no. You can also be silent. And think his part. It doesn't take superior arrogance to say, "I will not communicate with such base creatures." It can also simply be the knowledge that acting out of sensitivity can turn into cruelty. Whether you want to do this, everyone has to decide for himself. I've decided for myself that things can't work that way: Not every attack can be answered. There is a soothing silence in which one can reflect with oneself alone on all the negative waves that are buzzing around. For moments like this, "Cruda" is perfect. Perfect for discovering the beautiful in the negative, the gentle, the tender and the soft. And to be satisfied.
Top Notes 
Heart Notes 
Base Notes 
Agegshdhd
