Fong Qi Wei Exploding Roses
A rose is a rose is a rose.
Was she proper? Gertrude Stein, was she proper when she wrote that “Rose is a rose”; rose is a rose? That each one is because it appears, that we’re what we’re? Was she proper in assuming that… a rose is a rose?
There’s A River in My Head © Isabelle Menin, 2014
For I’ve reminiscence not of 1 however of numerous roses. I’ve the reminiscence of a dewy rose I smelt in a backyard by the Atlantic Ocean, surrounded by the dunes and the pine bushes in a chilly morning of pale spring. I’ve reminiscence of the roses in my mum’s backyard, spherical and plump, pink and yellow and a few there have been additionally white as snow. I bear in mind the roses rising wild in a Balinese backyard and the grandiose ones blooming within the Isle of Flowers off the coast of Brittany amidst bursts of laughter and the playful eyes of working youngsters. I bear in mind their scent carried by the saline breeze and the wafts of linden blossoms mingling of their path.
A rose.
The rose petals falling like garnet teardrops on the white marble ground of the Sheikh Zayed Mosque and the scent of rosewater washing the stone courtyards of the Damascus of outdated.
A rose is a rose
Velvet white bouquets crowing the statue of the Virgin Mary because it walks via the streets of a dusking Paris.
A rose is a rose is Ensar Rose.
Backyard rose by Alexandre Helwani
Consider the final time when basked in a heat sunshine, you stopped by a path within the forest, by the alley in your backyard and buried your nostril in a rose flower. Consider your shock as its scent reached your nostril and stirred up your recollections. Consider its texture, now, consider its color. Consider the sunshine because it fell between its petals like drops of rain. Consider how mild and frail it felt towards your pores and skin, towards your lip as you grew ever nearer to it.
Hold on to its picture, let not go of its scent because it grows once more in your thoughts and comes collectively via your senses.
That is your rose. The sum of all roses, the sum of your recollections. This rose that you simply image now shouldn’t be actual however in your self – and whether it is for you, then it’s true.
Queen of Flowers by Alexandre Helwani
Ensar Rose A rose is a rose.
Ensar Rose opens on such rose. On a private rose, an intimate and quiet expression of nature’s frail glory. Moist and crisp with morning dew beneath a faintly inexperienced halo. This rose is a rose, a rose that one smelt in a backyard sometime. For it’s pure, buoyant; its eyelids are shut and but shine, easy, true to its very nature of Queen of Flowers.
Sultan Pasha works not in notes nor in tiers however in shades. Ensar Rose depicts a flower because it lives from nightfall until daybreak, its shadow fleeing from a immobile solar.
Crystal.
The readability of the opening settles and immediately you’re not scared anymore – to pluck this rose. Vetiver comes forth, aided by a useful strike of sandalwood, showcasing much less of its lactones and extra of its dryness. Collectively they floor the flower petals in your pores and skin, the smear it in your wrist like a piece of lipstick.
Heat.
Sizzling like noon’s solar, vanilla’s candy animality heralds the approaching of ouds within the third a part of day. The picture of morning is gone – this rose sweats beneath a yellow sky. Clove-like evanescence of eugenol seeping from rose petals on the verge of wilt, it joins the earthiness of a tuberose untamed.
Crackle.
The ouds come finally as soon as all is consumed. The air grows chill, the nightfall attracts blue. Ouds are available purple wisps, hushing via the leaves and grassy fields. They’re piercing, ashy and ashen, woven on a mattress of sandalwood, right here nonetheless. The rose, proud in her nocturnal mantle, shivers. And so do you. Its fragrance has waned and was an icicle – a reminiscence.
I do know of no tougher feat than to jot down a couple of rose for there are such a lot of and but so few. For they’re liked as a lot as they’re loathed; praised as a lot as they’re despised and for all we all know of their molecules, we all know not of their nature. With Ensar Rose Sultan Pasha outdoes the Rule of Rose – that it should seem in each assortment but can hardly shock – by doing what he does finest.
Tug of Roses by Alexandre Helwani
Poetry.
Weaving and piecing collectively supplies of such would possibly to recreate, not his rose, however our rose. The rose of every one. The rose of our widespread but singular recollections. Fondness and melancholy sing their tunes on this meticulous and masterful composition, talking to the center of all but true to the center of every proving, if ever it was wanted that:
A rose is a rose.
Your rose.
Ensar Rose.
High: rosa alba otto, Persian rose otto, Tahitian vanilla.
Center: Haitian vetiver, honey, tuberose absolute, Bulgarian rose absolute.
Base: aged Mysore sandalwood, ambergris, amber, Oud Yunus by Ensar Oud (a really uncommon Hindi oud).
Alexandre Helwani – Contributor
Because of Sultan Pasha we’ve 1 ml of Ensar Rose for a reader wherever on the earth. You have to be a registered reader. You’ll be able to register right here. To be eligible please go away a remark with what you you loved about Alexandre’s assessment of Sultan Pasha Attars Ensar Rose and the place you reside. Do You will have a favourite Sultan Pasha Attars fragrance. Draw closes March 27, 2020
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