Laboratorio Olfattivo Tuberosis

On a mild autumn evening, bathed in golden light, the cold suddenly overcame me. Winter would arrive with the dawn. I opened the front door and looked one last time at the final stem of tuberose, a gift from the long summer. I thought I would pick it in the morning and enjoy its fragrance for a few more days. Since then, whenever artificial light signals the night, the tuberose exudes its soft scent, a blend of jasmine, plum, and spices. It is a whisper, like a breeze that never tires. And every evening, around midnight, its scent fades, so that one can look forward to the same moment the next day. Its fragrance is like its life: programmed. Within this flower dwells something of the likeness of Scheherazade, who told herself a story every night to escape death. She did it so well that her story, still alive, has become a fragrance.