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Roof terrace idyll at dusk
I must confess: The idea of my own, well-kept roof terrace triggers in me a feeling of childlike exalted euphoria.
In the evening with a fine drop in the gentle wind follow the waves of the music, lose yourself in the play of colours of the watercoloured cloud landscapes and the light pulsation of the night, and underneath you the queues of cars flow like iridescent pearls, the gaze rests on the sky mirror of cold blue glass facades or majestic stucco buildings, over one watches the tourmaline black spotted firmament.
Those, who are denied this luck, have to dodge to bars, from which over Berlin's roofs one or the other piece of jewellery is enthroned, some unfortunately only for club members, who have bravely completed an accordingly strict admission procedure.
Gin Fizz is in its wonderfully tangy freshness like a cool-flowing seduction on such a roof terrace, still heated by glowing solar heat, filled with muffled voices, blossom-white shirts and grey-green silky shine on alabaster skin.
Bitter transparent juniper is flanked by a bright, clear tandem of mandarin and bergamot, framed by mossy, slightly herbaceous accents.
Lubin's lime green chypre alternates between spring light - airy - floral and dry - powdery - serious, too frosty to give off a hint of warmth, but too mild to pass as a creaky complex representative of this fragrance genus.
Gin Fizz is as fine as a noble cocktail, as refreshing as the dive in the opal shimmering swimming pool, as delicate as the stories in the soft rustling of the leaves, almost a little wistful in its soft fading - like the clinking of the glasses when the dawn of the night robs the soul.