Cut out all the sample circles and lined them up in a kaleidoscope of fading beauty. Made the holes. All that was left was to run my fingers over the surface... It's incredible the ease with which the perfumed impregnation in the shape of a circle seems to be inserted into the pages of the catalog. It's worth rubbing and the scent stays on your fingers and permeates you, awakening memories. Here I am standing in front of a guy in line to pass my calculus test, here I am on a plane and the stewardess rolled the cart down the aisle, the dorm and I smell my classmate's shampoo, here is the bus and this interesting stranger looks through a hole in the frost on the window, I am somewhere at sea, I pass an open-air gym, here I am in Rome, the hum of the cathedral vault echoes, a man in a black jacket walked by and threw euros into a machine to light a candle, and this seems to be a bowling alley, at the next table someone is cheering loudly, this is in a club in the basement, here I am in an elevator and with me a woman with a bouquet. A mosaic of memory, one touch, inward breath, A bouquet of images, two openings, inward exhale, There was no prohibition to travel, on the waves. The flower touches my fingertips, full of you.