FILIPPO SORCINELLI SUPERFLUO? FANGO E PESCA EXTRAIT DE PARFUM 50ML SPRAY

The fragrance that falls.

There is a tired blessing of an ever-sick tree.

The branches are heavy from the time that returns and matures

and the earth welcomes like a rough pillow

the fruits of a memory that has no shame.

Every step sinks into its truth,

I have the peach between my fingers, still warm from the sun.

The thin skin opens, yields,

the mouth fills with liquid honey and root.

It's a bite that tastes like mud,

a sap of rain and dirty hands.

There is no longer a distance now between what falls and what remains on the skin.

Memory nourishes

that breath that tastes like home.

After all, even the firefly that was lost in those hot nights is love.

And that garden answered her

as to my tired and useless silence.

Because your hands are dirty with mud.

And because perhaps mud is life.