Jenjin
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Everything posted by Jenjin
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Conjunction, the veil of reunion. Ripples of sage-green silk covered in a mossy velvet-burnout pattern of wildflowers and slithering ivy.
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London Smoke. The foggy grey of Victorian London A black tea fougere with tabac flower and grey amber.
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Dissolution, the flowing veil. A crystal-sequined torrent of lilac-wine organza soiled with trampled grapeskins, cinnabar smudges, and smears of liquid myrrh.
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A softly glowing floral aldehyde streaked with somnolent lavender, ambrette, purple rose, vanilla bean, pink cognac, violet leaf, woad, muguet, black currant bud, and sheer musk. April Art: A Moment of Joy April is a moment of joy for those who have survived the winter. – Samuel Johnson Artist - Adolphe-Alexandre Lesrel
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Lavender rose petals, coconut husk, cerulean blue musk, agave, and blueberry resin.
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Green tea with mint cream, jasmine petals, lotus root, and sugared violets.
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Red chrysanthemum petals, guava pulp, crimson-tipped peonies, and sandalwood incense.
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Latex, leather, and blood-red lipstick.
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Divinity embodied: radiant golden amber, purifying chamomile, honeyed tea leaf, yellow bergamot, diaphanous vanilla, and white sandalwood.
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Pumpkin pulp and dragon’s blood resin, thickened with myrrh, black cherry, and a trickle of clove.
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Willow boughs tangled with strawflower, patchouli root, cypress, clary sage, vetiver, ho wood, and golden musk.
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Pine needle, crushed grass, jasmine absolute, and juniper.
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Gurjum balsam, lemon peel, ginger root, and clove.
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Sweetness shadowed by danger: dark amber and ylang ylang gleams through smoky chestnut, cacao, mahogany, blackcurrant, and vanilla bean. She was slender, and wonderfully graceful. Except that her movements were languid—very languid—indeed, there was nothing in her appearance to indicate an invalid. Her complexion was rich and brilliant; her features were small and beautifully formed; her eyes large, dark, and lustrous; her hair was quite wonderful, I never saw hair so magnificently thick and long when it was down about her shoulders; I have often placed my hands under it, and laughed with wonder at its weight. It was exquisitely fine and soft, and in color a rich very dark brown, with something of gold. I loved to let it down, tumbling with its own weight, as, in her room, she lay back in her chair talking in her sweet low voice, I used to fold and braid it, and spread it out and play with it. Heavens! If I had but known all!
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The chord vibrated in the air between them — a connection point. Hay-dusted oak, honey mead, pumpkin rind, vetiver root, corn husk, and maple leaves.
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Brandy-soaked pears, plum incense, and honeyed amber.
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Orange blossom water, fig milk, clove bud, madder root, and gum arabic smeared on an ambergris-dabbed white leather glove.
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I’m yer pumpkinberry: dried pumpkin leather with vanilla, balsam and sassafras layered over Virginia cedar.
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Lotus petals, jasmine sambac, orris root, coconut, clove, and honey.
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A stolen moment preserved for eternity in a gleaming amber jewel, entombed in malachite swirls of oakmoss and velvet.
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Snake Oil-soaked carnation petals, spiked with a dash of clove and allspice.
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Putrefaction, the veil of decay. A yellowing shroud of raw-edged Muga silk, banana-spotted with chunks of fermented fig and exuding rich, earthy puffs of mushroom dust.
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Ribbons of thick curd cooling in a crust flecked with crystallized purple buds.
