STREET OF
THE MAGIC

Following the round welcoming bends of the Seine of the boats, I cut through Paris every morning, inebriating myself with the scent of the body as it wakes up, reconciled by the relaxing calm of the waters and the rhythmic pace of the race that warms the memories, evaporating them in the air I pass through. Clean, elegant notes, of morning freshness, soft and milky, an ancestral immersion in the cradle of the maternal grandmother's care. An essence of

inebriating jasmine and delicate cleansers with rose water and iris, expertly dosed in warm notes of amber and the inevitable lightness of Sicilian citrus fruits. Those tones that saturate skin and memories, mixed with equally familiar Parisian experiences, the scents of paternal grandparents' rooms, the passion for those typical scents of face powder and talcum powder mixed with the skin, the most classic French perfumes.

A blend that I love to perceive along the silent banks of the morning, to feel it fluttering through the Parisian landscapes and, most gratifying of all, in the soft linen after a soothing shower.

The aroma of the evening, when I return home, crossing the threshold of my house, finding myself again.