Irish Leather

Book

$25
  • Description

"To what benevolent demon do I owe being thus surrounded by mystery, silence, peace and perfumes? Oh Beatitude! That which we generally name life, even in its happiest expanses, has nothing in common with this supreme life which I now I know and which I savour minute by minute, second by second."

Charles Baudelaire

Textes : Clara Molloy

Illustrations : Philippe Baudelocque

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Memory

One of those rough, cold mornings. Pink pepper. The sun peeks through the heavy grey clouds. Clary Sage Essence. The wind wraps itself around your clothes. Juniper berry. Morning dew soaks the grass. At last the stable, the wooden tack room doors, the burning scent of leather, wood, amber and honey. A thousand-year-old scent. Green mate absolute. The sweet neigh of the horse. Fleuve Essence. The scent of freedom. Leather meets the wind, grass warms up with wood. Tonka bean absolute. Irish Leather gallops towards the horizon.

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