A (musk)-leopard never changes its spots
’Cause life is made of local space-time patches where you recognize yourself always under the same patterns and just tiny perturbations … with fragances that do not ask for permission … with songs that remind us we are still standing … arguing stubbornly from saudade …
“I’m still standing better than I ever did, looking like a true survivor, feeling like a little kid …”
… this deserves some drops of Lola from Jacobs behind my ear
“Ain’t got no ticket, ain’t got no token…”
… to leave no one indifferent (as she never did) with a touch of Obsession by Calvin Klein on my temples
“Can you hear me? Thro the dark night, far away…”
… so, if they do not listen to me, they may at least smell the trail of Armani by Giorgio Ditto that my hair leaves
“It’s the terror of knowing what the world is about”
… maybe the answers to the biggest question emerge more easily from inside a sweater impregnated with Narciso Rodriguez by the mero mero
“Never thought I’d be without a kiss, no one to turn off the light”
… this asks for some drops of Montana de Claude Samesurname between the toes
“I didn’t mean to hurt you, I’m sorry that I made you cry”
… this is better handled with a little La vie est belle florale on the wrists (anti-suicidal tendencies shield)
“Country roads take me home to the place I belong”
… and the attempt to make me look less emaciated on the effing worst days of my life also had musk as one of the ingredients in Lancôme Ô d’Azur
“Que tú eres mi consentida y que lo sepa todo el mundo”
… and so it was, and so it will be if earth and heaven are connected. But this time the sweet Babywhimdoll nickname will not be a portrayal by beloving lips, but rather a match to my frivolous surrender to the purchase of a flask of Cartier La Panthère for my gem collection
