Somewhere in the Mediterranean... The sun at its zenith dazzles the island, on the south side. It brings an exhilarating heat and sweeps everything with a delightful breeze. The air and scorching temperature make the woods crack, from the parasol pines to the wild fig trees, before getting dizzy on the ground, in the joyful disorder of the anarchic branches. Pine needles stick to bare feet, perfuming them gently in a sensual rustle.
On the skin... A creamy woody fig, splashed with the freshness of bergamot and lemon, warmed by the ardor of cedarwood, guaiac wood, and subtly almond tonka bean.
Its trail is faceted by pink berries so that the escape is decidedly wild.
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