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Notes09/06/2019
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Can777
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Can777
Paper Aeroplane
I wanted to write you a letter, but it didn't happen because I spilled the ink when I wanted to write your name. Now I have folded a paper airplane from the side and stand lonely and alone at the open window of my room and look into the cool night. I'll let him fly in a minute. And maybe he'll find his way to you. He's loaded with thoughts and old memories. To you, to me and to our lost time!
Perhaps it flies in the dark through the garden where the oranges bloom and exude their citric-bitter and soothing scent. The one who seems enchanted by the moonlight. Maybe it flies so high that it doesn't get stuck in the resinous twigs and branches of the mind, Galbanum will lose its milky-sticky juices immediately
Maybe he flies higher and higher, as if there were airy light winds of aldehydes under his paper wings that carry him so high that the lights of the city under him look like white and sparkling daffodils in the glow of the stars. Carried by spicy-warm winds. And the vanilla-soft and powdery clouds as close to the full moon as two hearts in the tack of the same sound.
Up there he glides quietly in the night sky in endless silence. In endless harmony and love. You'll see his silhouette up there. He'll wait up there. He will wait for his time to come and for him to fly to his destination. And the destination and the landing place will be you. Only you! From far above he will recognize you and find you. And he will begin his slow descent. Over darkly mossy forests and powdery grey valleys. It'll be a slide into the softest darkness. A constant gliding in the interplay of feelings. A landing approach like on a creamy soft and mossy runway made of musk and sandal into your inner self. Or to ourselves?
I wanted to write you a letter, but it didn't happen because I spilled the ink when I wanted to write your name. Now I have folded a paper airplane from the side and stand at the open window in my room. Still lonely and alone! But before I let him fly into the night, I have him still "painted" with something that was also made of love. With a perfume. This paper airplane and the smell will perhaps be able to tell you what I could not always and what I was not able to do in words and deeds. So open the window and your heart for him and put a candle on your windowsill so he can find you from up there in the dark night. Wherever you may be now? It's a journey from me to you. It's a flight of emotional turbulence. A flight of upwinds and downs. And a constant glide through silence, love, sadness and longing!
Si près du ciel!...So close to heaven!
Vol de Nuit is not just a perfume. It's a lot more than that. It's the aerodynamics of dreams. It contains the strongest turbulences of emotions and deepest longings. And it will probably last forever and make the soul fly, like love, passion and hope!
<font color="#ffff00">-=https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=- proudly presents
Perhaps it flies in the dark through the garden where the oranges bloom and exude their citric-bitter and soothing scent. The one who seems enchanted by the moonlight. Maybe it flies so high that it doesn't get stuck in the resinous twigs and branches of the mind, Galbanum will lose its milky-sticky juices immediately
Maybe he flies higher and higher, as if there were airy light winds of aldehydes under his paper wings that carry him so high that the lights of the city under him look like white and sparkling daffodils in the glow of the stars. Carried by spicy-warm winds. And the vanilla-soft and powdery clouds as close to the full moon as two hearts in the tack of the same sound.
Up there he glides quietly in the night sky in endless silence. In endless harmony and love. You'll see his silhouette up there. He'll wait up there. He will wait for his time to come and for him to fly to his destination. And the destination and the landing place will be you. Only you! From far above he will recognize you and find you. And he will begin his slow descent. Over darkly mossy forests and powdery grey valleys. It'll be a slide into the softest darkness. A constant gliding in the interplay of feelings. A landing approach like on a creamy soft and mossy runway made of musk and sandal into your inner self. Or to ourselves?
I wanted to write you a letter, but it didn't happen because I spilled the ink when I wanted to write your name. Now I have folded a paper airplane from the side and stand at the open window in my room. Still lonely and alone! But before I let him fly into the night, I have him still "painted" with something that was also made of love. With a perfume. This paper airplane and the smell will perhaps be able to tell you what I could not always and what I was not able to do in words and deeds. So open the window and your heart for him and put a candle on your windowsill so he can find you from up there in the dark night. Wherever you may be now? It's a journey from me to you. It's a flight of emotional turbulence. A flight of upwinds and downs. And a constant glide through silence, love, sadness and longing!
Si près du ciel!...So close to heaven!
Vol de Nuit is not just a perfume. It's a lot more than that. It's the aerodynamics of dreams. It contains the strongest turbulences of emotions and deepest longings. And it will probably last forever and make the soul fly, like love, passion and hope!
<font color="#ffff00">-=https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=- proudly presents
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