the smell [Theme] Page 3

He smelled of whiskey. Whiskey and grief, and this is the most dangerous mixture.

... November - put your hands in your pockets to keep warm - the smell of spices in the air - the light of a floor lamp illuminates the morning room - silver steam circles over a mug of hot coffee - fog and the last leaves settle on the pavement - records with a muffled crackle waltz on an old record player .. .

The splash of waves with snow-white airy foam on the crest, the golden path of the liquid sunset, the smell of freshness and coolness, wet sand and shells thrown ashore, invisible vapors of bromine and iodine - a unique mixture of aromas created by the hand of the greatest perfumer - nature itself. The smell that leaves a kiss with a taste of salt on the lips enchants and wins the heart forever.

don't be afraid to fall.

The morning smells of the magic of life... and let the whole world wait now. I will add a handful of happiness as the coffee beans gradually turn into ground coffee in the coffee maker and soon the smell of espresso will be heard. I'll add some love while the cold milk is frothing in the cappuccinatore. And add some luck as the espresso and milk foam in the coffee cup combine into a cappuccino. And now the tart, insinuating aroma of coffee pleases with its notes of velvet mystery and depth of flight. And I just smile. Sincerely and warmly, because the soul becomes incredibly good.

with an endless forest of spiers.

He or it, I don't care about the rules at all. I just want coffee. Coffee is pure desire, ritual, symbol and addiction. I like to watch how the oily liquid pours into the cup, how the dark fills the white. I drink black coffee. The first sip burns with bitterness. The smell is precise, pointy. In a second, I feel how bitterness breaks up into dozens of notes: sweetness, sourness, woody and floral shades that fill every cell of the body with pleasure and penetrate into the very soul.

Autumn-alluring morning... The new day smiles with its unique, radiant smile. I write magical letters on colored paper, weave delicate floral dreams, blueberry and berry fragments of dreams, airy caramel memories into ink letters. I create my own beautiful fairy tale and send it with gratitude to the Universe for execution. And Damien Rice sounds around the house, the smell of apples and freshly brewed morning coffee spreads.

Forgotten I restore the world.

The smell of money often overpowers the spirit of the law.

What draws me to her...

Together with the sound of rain, the freshness of freshly cut grass and the fresh smell of the wind, I felt the persistent smell of rural childhood.

Autumn is about hot coffee, slightly burning with either temperature or the bitterness of roasting, about milky fogs in the early morning and the smell of smoke from chimneys, about sunlight, like melted honey, about long walks and cozy evenings with yellowed pages of old books, about the whistle of a boiling, polished, pot-bellied teapot and steam rising from cups of fragrant herbal tea, about days filled with the smell of coffee beans and cinnamon, about Akhmatova’s quatrains aloud, about jazz compositions that returned to the playlist, about spicy autumn perfume, with a smoky aroma of cherry bones, about a bouquet of maple leaves and picnics with grapes, buns and delicate goat cheese, about the rain outside the window of a warm house, in which the feet are buried in the soft pile of the carpet, and the palms are warmed by a cup of cocoa with almond crumbs. Autumn is about what fills your heart with woolen autumn comfort.

The summer flew by so quickly... I keep the smell of the sea in the collected shells and smooth pebbles. Caramel on the skin and salty kisses, and such a crazy lightness of being, as if all worries had flown away with the wind. Happiness splashes of blue water, and glare of sunlight mixed with white lambs of the waves. I keep it all in my heart.