The raw scent of the first figs we cut in August.

The sun-drenched island / the early afternoon walks / the endless white stairs to the churches / the joy when the boats passed by / us waving and shouting / The dry-stone house by the rocks / with the wild fig trees / growing through its walls / us excited to be the first / to taste their fruits / cutting them impatiently / our laughs after the first bite / the orange purple sunset / our cloudless summer the promise / to never let go.

Top Notes: Mandarin, Lavander, Bergamot 

Heart Notes: Fig, Lemon Tree Leaves, Orange Blossom

Base Notes: Ambergris, Musky, Cedarwood