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11/23/2018
Meggi
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Meggi
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No Grizzlys
Pear blossom? Um, I would have typed pear without detour, also a neatly tipsy. With blurred borders to an overripe peach; everything smokes gently. This is quickly accompanied by a white-flowered note, which may be deliberately somewhat unclear or nebulous, at least not only "orange" and/or "jasmine-like". Diffuse. More ladylike.
And by that I don't mean the kind of lady who, standing at the counter, whistles herself a shot, burps herself heartily and then beats up grizzlies. Because the alleged whisky notes "works" don't work on me. Again - I am not astonished or even disappointed to the extent that I perceive little of it, instead I would have merely said that the fruit stuff is probably slightly fermented; see above. If I consider it correctly, it also has a certain proximity to the smell of the remains of our Yellow Wild Plum after a few days lying around in the sun. It's a good thing that we haven't seen any grizzlies in our street that could get drunk on such things. The white-blooded gives the thing next to it a cream coating that anticipates further development.
Gradually, more than an hour has passed, the old compote should give peace. And - as if I had heard it - in the course of the morning a sweetish heavy, therefore largely un-strength jasmine note (similar to the one in TDC's "Jasmine de Nuit") actually gains weight and gradually pushes the fruit to the edge. The thing can be argued thereby problem-free still another thrust further into the ladylike.
Around midday, a little bit of creamy resin is formed, but it hardly gets anywhere against jasmine at first. Only after about five hours, and then into the evening, may I admit more. In style (not as a twin!), I now feel involuntarily reminded of L'Artisans Séville à l'Aube, which is a poem of white flowers and amber hints. Or at least it was - occasionally there are reports of distorting reformulations in the Siebeneck House. Since I exclusively own older versions, I don't know anything more exact.
Well, and since I think the Séville a. F. is quite great because he dresses my wife perfectly, it is not surprising that I also like the second part of Posala very much. In contrast, I find the prelude less successful.
It should not be concealed, however, that my wife has unfortunately departed from Séville. So I won't suggest Odin to her in the first place.
I thank Bartholomeo for the rehearsal.
And by that I don't mean the kind of lady who, standing at the counter, whistles herself a shot, burps herself heartily and then beats up grizzlies. Because the alleged whisky notes "works" don't work on me. Again - I am not astonished or even disappointed to the extent that I perceive little of it, instead I would have merely said that the fruit stuff is probably slightly fermented; see above. If I consider it correctly, it also has a certain proximity to the smell of the remains of our Yellow Wild Plum after a few days lying around in the sun. It's a good thing that we haven't seen any grizzlies in our street that could get drunk on such things. The white-blooded gives the thing next to it a cream coating that anticipates further development.
Gradually, more than an hour has passed, the old compote should give peace. And - as if I had heard it - in the course of the morning a sweetish heavy, therefore largely un-strength jasmine note (similar to the one in TDC's "Jasmine de Nuit") actually gains weight and gradually pushes the fruit to the edge. The thing can be argued thereby problem-free still another thrust further into the ladylike.
Around midday, a little bit of creamy resin is formed, but it hardly gets anywhere against jasmine at first. Only after about five hours, and then into the evening, may I admit more. In style (not as a twin!), I now feel involuntarily reminded of L'Artisans Séville à l'Aube, which is a poem of white flowers and amber hints. Or at least it was - occasionally there are reports of distorting reformulations in the Siebeneck House. Since I exclusively own older versions, I don't know anything more exact.
Well, and since I think the Séville a. F. is quite great because he dresses my wife perfectly, it is not surprising that I also like the second part of Posala very much. In contrast, I find the prelude less successful.
It should not be concealed, however, that my wife has unfortunately departed from Séville. So I won't suggest Odin to her in the first place.
I thank Bartholomeo for the rehearsal.
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