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Notes12/17/2018
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The little fear
"Mortal Skin" was on my watch list from the beginning.
I found the name incredibly fascinating.
How do you think the scent of mortal skin, i.e. that of every human being and perhaps also that of every animal, is converted into bottles?
Can this succeed?
I don't know the answer even after repeated tests yet, but yes, "Mortal Skin" reminds me of certain situations of being alive.
First of all the summers of my last school years.
As soon as school was over, I dashed home, grabbed my swimsuits and cycled to the outdoor pool.
I stayed there until I was totally exhausted from swimming and the blazing sun and drove through the dry fields on the dusty way back home.
There I rested briefly, then I had dinner and sometime I sat down to my homework. I abhorred them, like probably everyone who ever went to school, but I loved to write with the fountain pen and colourful ink, which is still the case today.
The fact that I already smoked makes the overall picture of Mortal Skin almost complete: It smells of hot, sunburned, dusty skin, of cooling sweat and of cigarette fingers that have touched the fountain pen too far down and are now smeared with ink.
That smells somehow strange, but I still like it really well.
Well...I said the overall picture was almost complete...because now comes the big but.
In the background of this fragrance is something that gives me goose bumps.
A shadow before the bright summer sun.
Something lurking beneath you in the water.
Someone who secretly follows you on a dirt road.
Eyes that watch you rest.
A strange feeling when crossing the inadequately illuminated alleyway.
Sudden steps behind you that make your pulse shoot up.
Someone with whom you have just enjoyed yourself deliciously and who looks at you all at once with a look that makes you all cold, who extinguishes the lights on this so far shining evening and makes it dark.
Fascinatingly beautiful and frightening "Mortal Skin" is unbearable for me.
I found the name incredibly fascinating.
How do you think the scent of mortal skin, i.e. that of every human being and perhaps also that of every animal, is converted into bottles?
Can this succeed?
I don't know the answer even after repeated tests yet, but yes, "Mortal Skin" reminds me of certain situations of being alive.
First of all the summers of my last school years.
As soon as school was over, I dashed home, grabbed my swimsuits and cycled to the outdoor pool.
I stayed there until I was totally exhausted from swimming and the blazing sun and drove through the dry fields on the dusty way back home.
There I rested briefly, then I had dinner and sometime I sat down to my homework. I abhorred them, like probably everyone who ever went to school, but I loved to write with the fountain pen and colourful ink, which is still the case today.
The fact that I already smoked makes the overall picture of Mortal Skin almost complete: It smells of hot, sunburned, dusty skin, of cooling sweat and of cigarette fingers that have touched the fountain pen too far down and are now smeared with ink.
That smells somehow strange, but I still like it really well.
Well...I said the overall picture was almost complete...because now comes the big but.
In the background of this fragrance is something that gives me goose bumps.
A shadow before the bright summer sun.
Something lurking beneath you in the water.
Someone who secretly follows you on a dirt road.
Eyes that watch you rest.
A strange feeling when crossing the inadequately illuminated alleyway.
Sudden steps behind you that make your pulse shoot up.
Someone with whom you have just enjoyed yourself deliciously and who looks at you all at once with a look that makes you all cold, who extinguishes the lights on this so far shining evening and makes it dark.
Fascinatingly beautiful and frightening "Mortal Skin" is unbearable for me.
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