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The smell of victory

The smell of victory

The stag of Italian Leather
and the scorpion of Sicilian Leather
wear their trophies in the city heights.

______

The weather grows milder and silence blankets the city, as if bowing down to the night that looms on the horizon. A flood of gold fallen from the sky has inundated the face of Paris: twilight. The building facades catch light and shine. On the hill of Montmartre, an animal. His head is a sight to behold. Laurel branches flutter on one side, bougainvillea on the other. There are jasmine, sunflowers, lavender, lilac branches and all sorts of plants. His antlers are adorned with a multi-coloured crown, a landscape with a unique fragrance.

At the foot of the Sacré-Cœur Basilica, curious onlookers observe the animal, as if they were waiting for him to call out, move, anything. They are soothed by the scent of the flowers and do not notice the time go by. After a while, the stag begins to jump. Where are they from, these flowers that bring him to life? No one knows. At any rate, his crown remains intact. The stag wanders about the hill, a trail of perfume wafting behind him. He leaves the heights and bolts down the stairs to the street below. And then he continues to run. As if answering a call in the distance, a secret adventure that beckons him elsewhere. The stag strides through the streets, driven by an extraordinary energy.

Crossing Place des Abbesses, he is surprised by a scorpion with an object in the shape of a letter dangling from his tail. It looks like a charm, in a shade of gold that cuts through the darkness of the night. The animal moves slowly toward the stag. As if they had a date. He advances toward the stag as if he had been waiting for him a long time. The scorpion, intrigued by the stag’s flower-bedecked antlers, speaks to him:

— I like your crown.

— I like that M-shaped charm on your tail.

— The essence of your flowers is what drew me out from my hole. May I smell them more closely?

— A secret is waiting for me somewhere. I felt something like a call. A secret calling me to the other side of the city. I’m not sure. In any case, its scent came all the way to me. Look, I am still trembling... I have to be on my way, I have to follow it.

— I will go where you take me, answers the scorpion.

The smell of victory

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