Apple Blossoms. It is now Spring.
I'm going to do something I never thought I'd do: my collection of fragrance is going away. I don't know how they are going, but I need to write a list of them. I have two scents now. Tom Ford Neroli Portofino, oil and something called body spray. So this is my brief affair; it's going to be warm kind of sunshine sexy, smelling like oranges. I bought the spray last weekend when I was furious with Senor Leiderhosen. I Hate Perfume Russian Tea Caravan I have a 5 ml liter bottle inside another little plastic capped bottle from The Container Store, ninety-nine cents. Wouldn't have it any other way. So sexy and intentional. Enough to last me a while. I put it on the tattoo of my Mum's signature; she hated perfume. How our noses ran in church when little white eldery Ladies wore hats. It's warm. When my nose is full of it, I feel it right here. Here. Where my breastplate armour would lean towards Heaven on the prayer cards of me. It's a Dark and St