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Notes03/23/2021
Balticsea
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Balticsea
8
He's not a legend! He exists! And I have seen him!
I close my eyes. My breathing slows instantly and everything around me disappears. I feel myself falling deeper and deeper. I don't fight it, even though a sneaking feeling creeps up on me that I'm going to regret this decision. But it doesn't matter now - nothing matters. And so it comes to pass that my consciousness finally gives way to infinite darkness, and my journey into the unknown begins once more.
I wake up. Still totally dazed and drowsy, I try to realize why I was startled up so abruptly. Was there a scream? Where am I? Why am I wearing clothes on my body and why is it so hot in here? A bad feeling creeps over me. But before I can even think clearly, I see it. The fire. Metre-high flames rise before my eyes. I don't have time to sort myself out - or think about the where and why. My mind stops and gives way to my instinct. And that screams "escape." I stand up and scan the surroundings. I'm standing in the middle of a hot landscape marked by blazing sand and scrub. It must be at least 40 degrees. Actually not much should thrive here - but I am surrounded by dry, leafless incense trees. Behind them, metre-high commiphores on fire. I can smell the burning resin of these myrrh trees and see the fire getting closer and closer. So I run. It gets hotter and hotter and then I hear it again - a scream. So bloodcurdling that a cold shiver runs down my spine despite the heat. I stop to look from which direction the scream came. And then I see it. A small gap in the undergrowth and behind it a tarred path. In the middle of the desert. And standing on that path is a man. I run towards the gap and fight my way through the flames that have now spread to the incense trees. I can feel the leather of my shoes slowly melting, but it doesn't matter now - nothing matters.
Thick smoke surrounds me, constricting my throat. Ten more meters - five - two. With my last ounce of strength, I set off to jump and dash through the burning brush. I land ungently on the path. The tar has melted from the heat and is sticking to my clothes, burning into my skin. And then I see him, and I realize abruptly that I've made a huge mistake. I can't feel anything anymore, not the heat, not the hot tar on my skin. Not the smoke in my lungs. Only fear. I look deep into his eyes. I open my mouth. "I know you. You're real. You are....." Before I can even say it he starts screaming-even louder than before. It's a scream like from the depths of hell - just like the locals described - and I know this is the end of me. He takes a step towards me, reaches out his hand and...
I wake up in a cold sweat. My wife shakes me. "It's all right honey, you're home, nothing can happen to you. Did you dream about him again? You were screaming." I look at her, still panicked, and say, "It was so bad, he was right in front of me. It was so incredibly real. The heat, the smoke. The fire....er." My wife calms me down and takes me deep into her arms. Gently she strokes my head and I slowly calm down. "It's all right now, he's only in your dreams, he's not real." I remain silent. My wife has no idea. I never told her what really happened five years ago in the fire in Oman. What I saw. I never told her. I never told anyone. Because no one, except the local Bedouin - a desert people of Oman - would have believed me. But I know he exists. I have seen him. He is not a legend. He exists. And I hope I never have to see him again. - the Interlude Man.
Review:
Flacon: 9/10
Beautiful, classy sprayer, but the deep blue doesn't fit the scent at all for me.
Fragrance: 5,5/10
The fragrance is simply a smoke-resin-spice monster. For me, unfortunately, only after 5 hours as soft and wearable as I would like him from the beginning. Until then for me just too unround and overloaded. Too bad. But we just don't become friends. He smells like a burning, oriental spice market whose bazaar tables were carved from myrrh trees.
Durability: 10/10
Short and sweet, I would have also given a 15. Even by washing not to remove.
Sillage: 10/10
To more than two sprayers I would not advise anyone. To smell for hours at over an arm's length
Compliments: 2/10
At least in my environment, the nose was turned up almost exclusively. A colleague told me that was the most awful fragrance I had ever worn. My wife also finds the creepy.
Wearability: 3/10
At most at temperatures below 5 degrees, please never in closed rooms. Hardly applicable for my sensation.
Conclusion:
I can already understand the hype, but to me he is just too much of everything, he did not go down well and I did not warm up to him. The fragrance is therefore moved on, but the legend lives!!
Until then...
Hanseatic greetings
I wake up. Still totally dazed and drowsy, I try to realize why I was startled up so abruptly. Was there a scream? Where am I? Why am I wearing clothes on my body and why is it so hot in here? A bad feeling creeps over me. But before I can even think clearly, I see it. The fire. Metre-high flames rise before my eyes. I don't have time to sort myself out - or think about the where and why. My mind stops and gives way to my instinct. And that screams "escape." I stand up and scan the surroundings. I'm standing in the middle of a hot landscape marked by blazing sand and scrub. It must be at least 40 degrees. Actually not much should thrive here - but I am surrounded by dry, leafless incense trees. Behind them, metre-high commiphores on fire. I can smell the burning resin of these myrrh trees and see the fire getting closer and closer. So I run. It gets hotter and hotter and then I hear it again - a scream. So bloodcurdling that a cold shiver runs down my spine despite the heat. I stop to look from which direction the scream came. And then I see it. A small gap in the undergrowth and behind it a tarred path. In the middle of the desert. And standing on that path is a man. I run towards the gap and fight my way through the flames that have now spread to the incense trees. I can feel the leather of my shoes slowly melting, but it doesn't matter now - nothing matters.
Thick smoke surrounds me, constricting my throat. Ten more meters - five - two. With my last ounce of strength, I set off to jump and dash through the burning brush. I land ungently on the path. The tar has melted from the heat and is sticking to my clothes, burning into my skin. And then I see him, and I realize abruptly that I've made a huge mistake. I can't feel anything anymore, not the heat, not the hot tar on my skin. Not the smoke in my lungs. Only fear. I look deep into his eyes. I open my mouth. "I know you. You're real. You are....." Before I can even say it he starts screaming-even louder than before. It's a scream like from the depths of hell - just like the locals described - and I know this is the end of me. He takes a step towards me, reaches out his hand and...
I wake up in a cold sweat. My wife shakes me. "It's all right honey, you're home, nothing can happen to you. Did you dream about him again? You were screaming." I look at her, still panicked, and say, "It was so bad, he was right in front of me. It was so incredibly real. The heat, the smoke. The fire....er." My wife calms me down and takes me deep into her arms. Gently she strokes my head and I slowly calm down. "It's all right now, he's only in your dreams, he's not real." I remain silent. My wife has no idea. I never told her what really happened five years ago in the fire in Oman. What I saw. I never told her. I never told anyone. Because no one, except the local Bedouin - a desert people of Oman - would have believed me. But I know he exists. I have seen him. He is not a legend. He exists. And I hope I never have to see him again. - the Interlude Man.
Review:
Flacon: 9/10
Beautiful, classy sprayer, but the deep blue doesn't fit the scent at all for me.
Fragrance: 5,5/10
The fragrance is simply a smoke-resin-spice monster. For me, unfortunately, only after 5 hours as soft and wearable as I would like him from the beginning. Until then for me just too unround and overloaded. Too bad. But we just don't become friends. He smells like a burning, oriental spice market whose bazaar tables were carved from myrrh trees.
Durability: 10/10
Short and sweet, I would have also given a 15. Even by washing not to remove.
Sillage: 10/10
To more than two sprayers I would not advise anyone. To smell for hours at over an arm's length
Compliments: 2/10
At least in my environment, the nose was turned up almost exclusively. A colleague told me that was the most awful fragrance I had ever worn. My wife also finds the creepy.
Wearability: 3/10
At most at temperatures below 5 degrees, please never in closed rooms. Hardly applicable for my sensation.
Conclusion:
I can already understand the hype, but to me he is just too much of everything, he did not go down well and I did not warm up to him. The fragrance is therefore moved on, but the legend lives!!
Until then...
Hanseatic greetings
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