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12/18/2023
Christacita
35 Reviews
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Christacita
2
A prisoner of times gone by
Where has it gone? My all-consuming youth, characterized by discontinuity and adventure? It seems to me as if it has been abducted by an invisible magic train, steaming and squeaking through the misty expanses. Out of nowhere, suddenly vanished. According to the drama, this even happened at night, because nothing led back to the youth who had so abruptly disappeared. In the private compartment of the night train, a small bowl of fruit adorned the nostalgic window sill. Tangerines and pineapples lay there untouched and lonely, only their gentle fragrance drawing a few invisible clouds into the silence, even releasing a slightly peppery note. I remember the scent of orange blossom, the tea bags of which I always carried with me, as their essences were always able to soothe and calm me in hours of restlessness. Pleasantly warm. Their scent, all-consuming and clear, as if their existence existed solely to be broken into and tasted. Where has it gone, that eroticizing, soothing time that threatened to burst with restlessness? Only the amber and musk aromas were able to ground the feelings a little, to tame the emotions a little so that I didn't burst into a thousand pieces from sheer enthusiasm. Or was it really fear that was holding me back?
An oil painting from Paris in the early 1920s appears in my mind's eye. The Eiffel Tower presents itself with its striking, all-consuming presence in matt black. To the right and left of it are pretty rows of apartments in the Art Deco style, which suddenly gain positive resonance and playfulness thanks to individual pink jamine bushes. In the middle of the picture at the front are two couples in love, walking slowly and reverently towards the magnificent Eiffel Tower under a pink umbrella to seal their love with its symbolism. At the very front, I recognize a figure that resembles mine, although I dismiss this possibility in my mind, as I am not aware that I am officially a time traveler. All I can see of this person resembling me is his back, his long hair, his arms and hands stretched out towards the landmark, as if he wanted to embrace it in all its splendor and hold the love that comes with it forever and never let go.
Letting go of youth with all the facets that maturity brings with it can be a real challenge, all the more so when the unfathomable paths of life and its forks are so varied and, looking back, one or two things could have been managed in a more differentiated way.
The fragrance reflects a playful sweetness, a little too orange blossom-heavy and even a little kitschy and unreal, so I will probably not grant this little fragrance called "Parisian Dream" a permanent stay in my modest rooms, despite its heavenly name and enchanting bottle. However, the time travel and fragrance dreams are here to stay.
An oil painting from Paris in the early 1920s appears in my mind's eye. The Eiffel Tower presents itself with its striking, all-consuming presence in matt black. To the right and left of it are pretty rows of apartments in the Art Deco style, which suddenly gain positive resonance and playfulness thanks to individual pink jamine bushes. In the middle of the picture at the front are two couples in love, walking slowly and reverently towards the magnificent Eiffel Tower under a pink umbrella to seal their love with its symbolism. At the very front, I recognize a figure that resembles mine, although I dismiss this possibility in my mind, as I am not aware that I am officially a time traveler. All I can see of this person resembling me is his back, his long hair, his arms and hands stretched out towards the landmark, as if he wanted to embrace it in all its splendor and hold the love that comes with it forever and never let go.
Letting go of youth with all the facets that maturity brings with it can be a real challenge, all the more so when the unfathomable paths of life and its forks are so varied and, looking back, one or two things could have been managed in a more differentiated way.
The fragrance reflects a playful sweetness, a little too orange blossom-heavy and even a little kitschy and unreal, so I will probably not grant this little fragrance called "Parisian Dream" a permanent stay in my modest rooms, despite its heavenly name and enchanting bottle. However, the time travel and fragrance dreams are here to stay.
