This is what it smells like when you crush up fairy bells, all your childhood dreams of bettering the world, and mix with Mother Nature's embryonic fluid. I only have old, very worn Swedish sleigh bells, shattered dreams, and Momma N keeps slapping my hands away when I make a move for her fluids. (Okay, eew.)(But maybe if the bells had been shattered, rather than the dreams...closer. I always get those confused.) Un Jardin sur le Nil...is good. I'll wear it all my life. I'd bathe in it if I could - snort it, drink it, you name it. Spray it and it'll be just like I'm there with you, but invisible...so, urm, a bit more like I'm waiting in the darkness of your home, waiting to strike. Any. Minute.
NOW.
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