Les Eaux Imaginaires

As mysterious as the unknown, I am an escape, a solitary passion. Odysseus and Calypso. I am an enchanted island, remote yet fertile. My trees trickle with a purple spiced juice. From their fruits, which are said to be those of the imagination, flows a nectar of an unfamiliar and deep flavour. Its purplish colour is sought after across the Mediterranean. Its dye colours my shores and feeds the shellfish. From this precious red-purple liquid is extracted a rare perfume, a combination of the night’s cool and the sensuality of black fig. A subtle alliance, somewhat insidious, like the land that gave me life. I am the inaccessible faraway voyage, the dream to be conquered. I am the symbol of your secrets and your deep-rooted desires. I am the unexpected space in which the treasure of the Ego is found. Look for me on the high seas, in the ripples of your sleep. My scent will rise from your sheets…

Welcome to my perilous and loving land. Here, I cultivate a temptation of the senses, a whirl of feelings and an excitement of the body. I am the crossing to the other bank, the river which marks the border between life’s challenges and forbidden love. I am the irresistible dam that invites you to bathe in my bed. My liquid is a dizziness which exhilarates the spirit with sheer folly and sweet dreams. My tender map is that of an imaginary land where three rivers irrigate the soil, symbolising love affairs. My perfume stems from this allegory. It is the fragrant path that lovers cross and that is imprinted on their minds forever, like an eternal trace on their half-naked skin. Its fragrance embodies the odyssey of risk, of dangerous, delectable liaisons. On the Map of Tendre, at the end of the narrow path lined with blue thistles and scented peppery shrubs, there is a concealed entrance to a cave, protected by wild rose bushes. This lair with damp walls has become a place of secret encounters for lovers, who come to set free their passion. A truthful enjoyment of your infinite fancies…

This evening, my dunes dream of the moon’s coolness. At dawn, the sun’s heat will blaze with a pure, blinding light. On my cushions of sand, with its gentle caress, the wind will sweep up a fantastical world. Angels or demons will birth hallucinatory aspirations and spiritual thirsts. My vast arid expanses will become a theatre of wonder, of bewitching sensuality and floating feasts. My lush vegetation of date palms will provide water and shade to the passing caravans. I will borrow from these travellers the fragrance of their flavourful baskets and their rare spices, to give the next ones who come new mirages blending rose and orange blossom. My delicious trail will guide you across my desert so you can become lost or find your way. I am a hot breath, the essence of the oasis which troubles the mind. An imaginary land created by my perfume for a stationary journey…