Leave a comment

Smelling Her Perfume


A good fragrance is really a powerful cocktail of memories and emotion. ~Jeffrey Stepakoff

You smell the ocean’s perfume before you see her but, by the time you set eyes upon her beauty, the aroma of her perfume has long since dissipated like the love between two partners that have long drifted into the indifference of lives focused inwards beneath the shimmery surface, focused on getting mine rather than celebrating the other and growing the us. Self-centered. Self-imposed isolation slowly transforming into a corpse rotting from the inside out. A slow suicide.

The perfume has a sister fragrance. It’s a bouquet wafting from the still waters in the Northern, Wisconsin Lake Country filtered through pine and oak tresses alive with squirrels who’s tails bounce neurotically, alive with tawny white-tailed deer seen in a white flash as they bound, gracefully dance deeper into the forest, a forest alive with the buzz of insects praying for solace from the sun’s intensity.

The perfume of the ocean is a tad bit spicier than that of the lakes, perhaps, it’s the salt intertwined with the scent, perhaps the sheer volume of the ocean means there is infinitely more scent available to fill the nose, perhaps it’s the massive waves crashing against the sand using the shore as a fulcrum to cast tiny scent messages deep into the world, messages riding the arrows of the sun striking and piercing my skin pink before the revelry of the perfume dissipates.

The scent is more fleeting than the squadron of screaming jets, shrieks overwhelming the stacked layers of sound at the beach, the incessant screech of the gulls high in the sky squabbling for the best flight path, the gleeful bark of the dogs splashing in the cooling ocean, the murmur of waves repeatedly ticking the shoreline, the whisper of humans in distant conversation, the deep exhalations of the flowers surrounding me.

If you look for the jets by sound you will see sky, empty sky, empty sky punctuated by bleached clouds, a void filled by sound. To glimpse the giant birds before they bank into the netherworld, it is necessary to look away from their thunder, look far ahead to see the effortless flash of jagged grey lighting streaks, two, maybe three streaks moving in synchronous unity slicing through the sapphire heavens, cleaving Zion from Elysium, cleaving Valhalla from Nirvana before disappearing into the heart of the billowing, ivory blanket towing the perfume of the ocean along until the scent becomes a phantom, a quickly forgotten memory, a ghost flitting bird existing just outside of mental recollection causing one to question its existence.

Perhaps her perfume never truly existed. Perhaps it was the product of an overactive imagination bent on finding beauty in a world short of intimacy. Perhaps it was the heart longing for a loved one left sleeping on the pillow. Perhaps the conjured scent is a way of keeping the memory close to the heart while the lovers are parted.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

STREET x SPREZZA

Vintage Style and Modern Tailoring

Urban Poetry

She's an Urban Pen spilling ink in inspiration and words.. A Digital Art & Poetry Wordpress By Linda J. Wolff

Heartstring Eulogies

Conjured by Sarah Doughty

Srijana Kattel

Ramblings of an empty mind

Travelling around the world

Traveller, photography

ishanlin.wordpress.com/

All images © I-Shan Lin

TESSEROLOGY

A MOSAIC OF BITS AND PIECES ON TRAVEL, LIFE AND TIMES

leaf and twig

where observation and imagination meet nature in poetry

Virtual Vomit

Sometimes its easier than others

Lipstick on a Pig

The Sartorial Explorations of a Middle Aged Man

The Used Life

Experiments in the Art of Mastering None

Dipa Singapuri

Tarot Tales from Tokyo

simplisticInsights

Simple made easy! psychology love feeling emotion thought behaviour success strategy

Love it Now

Love is ever-present within our own Being but we might not feel it until we live in the Now. "Love it Now" was created to share ideas about loving and being present in the here and now. Enjoy!

elisa ruland

All you need is love...and travel.

HHC Blog

Writings, Photographing, thinking back...

Photobooth Journal

A life in a photobooth.

%d bloggers like this: