What if the good of man were to forget, rather than remember?
I was in Cambodia, a long journey going up the Mekong, in search of forgetfulness as salvation. The banks
of the great river, the dry season of spring, slight and shiny notes of helichrysum, incense and orange, open
This flow, in a golden river, a shiny labyrinth of the soul.
The sound of the drums in the night, overlooks the silence in the temple, is the dawn of a new day. The oblivion tells the man's journey in search of the
forgetfulness, Tiziano Terzani as a spiritual and literary guide. An invitation to travel, an ever closer link to me with the East. The memory flowed slowly, between the plants and smoky notes of Mate Tobacco,
The welcome of the Iris speaks to the soul, now we are in the heart of the oblivion. When the long journey is about to close, the sweet woody notes of sandalwood and holy pole bring us back to the depths of balance. Lacks
Only sunset to define the end, but the oblivion remains, like an eternal hint, like dust in ancient temples.
A perfume that does not tell only a journey, but celebrates a close link between memory and forgetfulness. The oblivion, it is a spiral of quiet
