It was spring in Morocco at the height of the Rose Festival. Leaving his riad at number 28 Rue Assourel, he pressed against the ancient clay walls to allow the passage of the wagons, overflowing with fresh rose petals, skilfully guided by small, proactive men. The medina was intoxicating. Not only the sweet and powerful scent of the flowers, but the vats of exotic spices, tanned skins, carved cedar boxes and the ubiquitous urns of fresh Nanah tea. It was a powerful cocktail. She completely lost track of time. She had no idea where the next step might lead. But she made her way safely, navigating with broken French and genuine smiles... feeling for the first time in centuries, really and completely alive.

Olfactory notes:

cedar wood, leather, Turkish rose, Moroccan tea, white flowers.