AMBER GREY
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I open a drawer and rarely visited I advise a small glass jar closed by a metal lid - I loose. And soon, as well that in these oriental tales, where it opens a bottle, rises, rises, a genius, a magician with extraordinary powers, a spirit amounts, can be affixed to my face and overflowing. It subdue my nostrils, mucous membranes lining the immaterial whether a heady bloom, the soul that stumbles and falls backward.
they offer me once I forgot a cube of ambergris, and here his powers intact and preserved. It would be wrong to hope for the drab plumage of the nightingale what his singing. Wrong and only waiting a common scent of the substance of caramel color that sparkles in a fine sweat.
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Referring to what is known or suspected, citing similarities and contrasts, we can try to evoke a landscape, the movements of a symphony, the flavor of a dish. But what words, what images, report, who ignores them, a color or a pure? How to give, not to see, hear, taste, but to feel? For, notebook in hand, smelled the fragrance of which the air spring forward - from the acacia thorn, the mock orange honeysuckle - I can testify to the difficulty, if we refuse to approximation the poetic vagueness, to translate the spectrum of an odor and its effect on our sensibilities.
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Except to come from a tree, a hedge in bloom, the plant species are often measured or selected. We must approach the pink look on the violet, to enjoy the fragrance.
We did not even inspire ambergris: a breath warm, a cohesion which leaves less chance of air gap, colonizes our face at once and lay a thin honeydew. We bathed our heads in a static exhalation and exhilarating. And the same time it suspends, won by the inertia of the blessed air.
If our breathing resumes, it is less to uphold the requirements of the body - we could remain motionless, fascinated as the beast - for foster, through the inspiration, the minute our host stranglehold on the whole being, the species fertilization there operates by instilling glimpses of sunsets from the sand, until the melancholy that attaches at this time.
Some detect in the aroma of ambergris, a hint of black moss, spices, vanilla, clove, tobacco. Even if the breathing, I see the shadow cast on a bright sky, a field of dried seaweed at low tide and sunshine, that's the offshoot of an organic material. Expelled from the intestine of sperm whales, the concretion floats on the sea or stranded on shore. Long enough for the sun, acting as a casserole, concentrated and transmutes the original items in a gifted gold volatility, and so precious that it was once sold for native gold.
Without doubt he would have less power, if it proceeded from the organization if he had obvious affinities - in the ladle! - With the civet and musk. With the gland excretion.
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I, discovering that a man makes use of ambergris, a sense of incongruity, the time for dandies and fops is gone. However, this perfume has to find in the recesses of the female body, sensual aromas of which amalgamate to better incline our thoughts to a harem of East or the South Island where a celebrated painter of exotic beauties "gold of their body. " Moreover, this flavor does not it seem more dark and heavy hair? Duller skin to the extent that neckline, a halter, held under the chandelier, the coat of arms? Development does not he around her who chose a climate of indifference? Does it not point to the opulence of a body rather than brisket, but a woman full?
Ballasted, it is weighted, and as enlarged. A velvet gown, with train, slowing his progress. She does not disdain our homage, but does wish. Conscious of its price, it s'encense itself a nectar that we hear it is now, at age makes a delectable creamy flesh.
*
I closed the pot. So that the rare and sublime substance does not passed out in the open air? Rather because the mind surrenders to the balm so persuasive, compelling - and tough! - It puts you in front of an excess of sweetness to your own mask every pore, you infuse fullness that you be inclined to resign.
It is discreet messengers. It's imperceptible to the forget-me voice whispers: "Do not forget me ..." the purple dares us hail from between the leaves. In this he has to serve, ambergris is shown exuberant untimely. He speaks bluntly, in very explicit terms, the first fruits of pleasure in half day of an alcove with heavy drapes.
- But patience, my nostrils, I will not deprive a sweet air and, wish, clear: you will find in a few months, scents slender, likely to be diluted in space . Rustic, smells skeleton where we never lose sight of the sky.
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ON the silence (II)
From a reader humanist named Eugene Mersea ** I received long ago, a letter in which he told me to collect a share in world literature, all the remarks about the silence on the other hand, recorded himself reflections on the same topic, clean, feed the praise of silence that he was planning and which would have entitled Le Tombeau Harpocrates ** . We exchanged a few letters until his death put an end to our correspondence.
I give below a few sentences that the author sent me, and I beg your pardon his heirs to do without their authorization: I could not find trace of her offspring.
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Between the last word and the last sigh, there is always room for a final silence.
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Who wants to break my silence spears cons?
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Silence is also essential to the love that word knowledge.
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Eyes closed, lips closed: the perfect silence. .
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is closed when the lips are the best.
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is what you do not tell me the most hurt.
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You give birth in the silence.
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Silence, which can translate everything, is itself indescribable.
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The word of the French language which has perhaps the most rhymes, and richest, the word also in the richest shades and halftones.
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At a chatterbox, "Get out of my silence! "
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call may be the first triumph of freedom, and silence, his last defense.
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We communicate through speech, we communed in silence.
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is the silence that kills!
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Silence secret thought, which flows into the floor, lost in silence.
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Nothing is more impressive than the silence of the major organs in a deserted cathedral.
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* Born in 1911, died in the 1980s, he said "a nonviolent passionate, loyal, since his youth, tradition libertarian.
** Harpocrates: god of silence in Greek mythology.
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