A rather late evening after a busy day, when I finished cooking and cleaning, the clock had already hit 11 o’clock. I sat down at the table again, and Julia’s Pink Floyd music – a German girl in this vegan group was still on the speaker. There were only 4-5 children left, they made a pot of tea fragrant with scent of ginger, and they all leaned back on the sofa to smoke and chat the day.
Relaxing with endless stories, Joseph suddenly told Josh that he wanted to roll some grass to pass each other to suck, and turned to ask the rest of us that smoking a little in the dining room is not. what. Everyone agrees, of course, and I suddenly remembered my Hannabis-Santal vial. I turned to tease Joseph, who was stooping in the cigarette,: “Hey, I don’t smoke, but there’s a fragrance called Hannabis-Santal, I try it for them to see if it smells like grass.”
And Joseph’s first expression when he sniffed Hannabis-Santal in my hand was grinning (hissing a breath now), and then he said, “What kind of smell does this smell, but it’s also called Hannabis-Santal, Yes, Santa does ”. It may be a bit outrageous and messy, but maybe I understand what he meant by using the word Santa to describe it because the Hannabis-Santal in my hand gave off a sweet, the sweetness of chocolate stinking all over the Christmas markets. Born here. There was a hint of sweet plum flavor, but mainly the headaches of chocolate and caramel. Up to now, I still do not understand Fresh intentions when naming Hannabis-Santal – Can Co does not have, but Dan Huong also does not have. To be fair, Hannabis-Santal’s drydown is quite pleasant when the scent of Patchouli’s tree-and-earth (with a little green Vetiver) mingles with the fat leopard has settled. It can still make people feel relaxed and calm, but it’s absolutely not the smell you would expect from the name.
Perhaps there is no absolute substitute. And for the most part, the “love of one person through another” only brings hurt both sides. The saying “Get over it. U’re just looking for a substitution. ” of a stranger on the 1am train still lingers in my mind. Would I really have such feelings for Midori, if the Japanese girl did not ‘happen’ is also petite, with big talking eyes, and the name Midori also means green – color hers’. Or even Julia, the 19-year-old German libertarian. When I see Julia sitting out on the balcony, drawing in the morning sun, playing Pink Floyd’s music mumbling along, am I thrilled with this very girl, or is I just unintentionally seeing a familiar image?
The night was falling, and I smelled a little of the need for grass. But it must have been from the rolled cigarette still flickering back and forth, definitely not from Hannabis-Santal – the fake identity still lurking in my hands.