11/09/2023
Marieposa
33 Reviews
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Marieposa
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The unwritten letter
And you do read novels! I almost sighed with relief at the sight of the piles of books on the floor. One or two acquaintances smiled at me from the vanilla-yellowed pages.
You almost made me feel as young and stupid as I must have been back then. Literature, you had only said earlier that evening, was a start, but anyone seeking true knowledge would have to read the philosophers. You quoted Nietzsche and Adorno until a mocking voice inside me came up and wanted to insist that I had indeed had epiphanies, in countless novels. But I smiled and refrained from replying because it was so important to you. So I just let my head sink onto your shoulder, onto your coat, which was slightly damp from the misty drizzle and in whose pockets a packet of rolling tobacco was always hidden. So I breathed you, the coat, your warmth in conflict with the December cold and didn't let on that the horrified question was rumbling around in my head as to whether Nietzsche was the madman with the whip and what I was maneuvering myself into.
I almost chickened out. Wouldn't have come along if I hadn't been pushed through the heavy door, giggling sheepishly. But then the old books on the floor gave me confidence, they, the guitar and the record player in the corner, where the small burn holes in this unspeakable carpet were condensed.
Who the hell listens to records anymore, I was about to ask. But as I searched for your gaze, I noticed that the glare from earlier had left it. A silent question had taken its place, making your eyes so serious and brown, and no more words would escape my lips. For a blink of an eye, I could feel your uncertainty with my hands. Then there was only the pulsation of past kisses and the desire for your amber-golden warmth.
How light and shimmering my head was, and I still wonder today why you couldn't hear my heart as it flew towards you.
Later you said I should have poems dedicated to me. Too bad. A simple letter would have done. But you owed me that one.
**
A quick spray and I start to wonder whether this could really be the scent worn by someone I once knew. The scent that was so different when everyone smelled like Axe Alaska. But I'll have a long time to do the math because I only know when the fragrance came onto the market and not when it disappeared again ... But in the end, that's probably not the point.
In my opinion, Extase Musk for Men has nothing ecstatic about it, but is rather a light, cuddly warm amber fragrance with creamy, slightly humanizing musk and a dry, woody vanilla note, which I associate with the smell of high-quality, old paper. It is a fairly simple, straightforward fragrance, a quiet, unobtrusive, yet present and very pleasant companion and I would say that women can wear it just as well as men - but not myself, because it is too strongly associated with a memory.
Dear Cfr, thank you for the sample that sent me on this admittedly somewhat confusing journey of thought.
You almost made me feel as young and stupid as I must have been back then. Literature, you had only said earlier that evening, was a start, but anyone seeking true knowledge would have to read the philosophers. You quoted Nietzsche and Adorno until a mocking voice inside me came up and wanted to insist that I had indeed had epiphanies, in countless novels. But I smiled and refrained from replying because it was so important to you. So I just let my head sink onto your shoulder, onto your coat, which was slightly damp from the misty drizzle and in whose pockets a packet of rolling tobacco was always hidden. So I breathed you, the coat, your warmth in conflict with the December cold and didn't let on that the horrified question was rumbling around in my head as to whether Nietzsche was the madman with the whip and what I was maneuvering myself into.
I almost chickened out. Wouldn't have come along if I hadn't been pushed through the heavy door, giggling sheepishly. But then the old books on the floor gave me confidence, they, the guitar and the record player in the corner, where the small burn holes in this unspeakable carpet were condensed.
Who the hell listens to records anymore, I was about to ask. But as I searched for your gaze, I noticed that the glare from earlier had left it. A silent question had taken its place, making your eyes so serious and brown, and no more words would escape my lips. For a blink of an eye, I could feel your uncertainty with my hands. Then there was only the pulsation of past kisses and the desire for your amber-golden warmth.
How light and shimmering my head was, and I still wonder today why you couldn't hear my heart as it flew towards you.
Later you said I should have poems dedicated to me. Too bad. A simple letter would have done. But you owed me that one.
**
A quick spray and I start to wonder whether this could really be the scent worn by someone I once knew. The scent that was so different when everyone smelled like Axe Alaska. But I'll have a long time to do the math because I only know when the fragrance came onto the market and not when it disappeared again ... But in the end, that's probably not the point.
In my opinion, Extase Musk for Men has nothing ecstatic about it, but is rather a light, cuddly warm amber fragrance with creamy, slightly humanizing musk and a dry, woody vanilla note, which I associate with the smell of high-quality, old paper. It is a fairly simple, straightforward fragrance, a quiet, unobtrusive, yet present and very pleasant companion and I would say that women can wear it just as well as men - but not myself, because it is too strongly associated with a memory.
Dear Cfr, thank you for the sample that sent me on this admittedly somewhat confusing journey of thought.
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