The skin is the breathing on the surface. Her scent is equally the most difficult and most easily perceived kaleidoscope.In fact, there is no real “skin extract” in perfume. Recalling the naturalistic scenes from “Perfume: The Story of a Murderer” is delusional. There are birch tar and myrtle, cistus, muscone, styrax, isobutyl quinoline, cassia, juniper oil, castoreum, aldehydes, tobacco, black tea and whatnot, adding to the bitter, dusty or lacquered shades of the idea of skin. Whether you understand leather tanning and chemistry or not, skin attracts like gravity and pushes back like identical charges.
The artist in me has been stowing for a long time this summer. The summer squeezed through sheets of paper for textbook encasing, locks of sun-bleached hair and cutting holes of cider cans.
The artist must buck up, fend off the dusty thoughts and feelings, dive into autumn clouds and breathe, and breathe …
Do away and stride forward.
Calida gravisque pura velut aurum
Et canunt angeli molliter
warm and heavy as pure gold
and angels sing softly
to the new-born babe.
The good in the world has no end. It is flowing, circling, transforming and it always finds its way to the one who needs it, or back to whoever created it. The malice is asleep and sleeps longer when we forget it, when nobody speaks about it. I remember good and want to do good.
but she can knead a worthy bread, as well,
as soon she sings, seven wells spout their living water,
the soul dissolves in ecstasy and splatters.
It won’t be long until you apprehend the universal truths,
while she’s unflinchingly reciting proofs.