A song that becomes sound in silence and perfume
Little Song tells the metamorphosis of the time, which inexorable passes through our life. A perfume
which tells my solitude and my intimate feeling of the time flowing and that changes things
. Little Song speaks to the past. How to tell the passing time? How to find the scent of metamorphosis?
In the initial vibration of his citrus and spicy notes, I listen to hope. Little Song is a little
Song repeated indefinitely, it is a cup of coffee, left alone on my study table, the scent of his
Fund, intense, aromatic, from there, I started to remember. Little Song is a deck of roses held in hand. I looked for the depth in the squad, I looked for the poetry of its petals, which dry, deep and deep and
dusty feeling. Little Song is a daily ritual, the cigarette now consumed between the fingers, the pungent tobacco brings the distant gaze, the pages of Kafka repeated by heart. A hint of land and smoke, of
roots and resins. Finally, time also has its perfume. I continue to write this little song indefinitely, like a nenia. Little Song is a narrow space, it is a deep bond with life, with the past. A perfume that shakes the heart, which adds the bottom of the human soul.
