The Last Syllable
‘Tis Not Madness Perfume OilAdd to cart
This is the air; that is the glorious sun;
This pearl she gave me, I do feel’t and see’t;
And though ’tis wonder that enwraps me thus,
Yet ’tis not madness.
A vibrant swirl of orange blossom, sweet patchouli, vetiver, and sandalwood.
‘Tis Strange Perfume OilAdd to cart
“Macbeth ruled during a time when the old gods were not yet forgotten. Almost no one could read and their memories and stories reached back into the deepest shadows.
When the imagination stretches backwards as well as forwards it creates a sort of slide, or ladder. Like the children’s game! Time is much thicker. There is a substance about it that allows beings to gain purchase.”
Both bog and castle, moor and battlefield, chivalry and nightmare: scarred leather armor, moss-covered stone, shadows upon shadows, and billows of black incense.
Bawd Perfume OilAdd to cart
Pray you, without any more virginal fencing, will
You use him kindly? He will line your apron with
Raucous red velvet musk, sweet patchouli, billowing peony, bourbon vanilla, and a cascade of red rose petals.
Cakes and Ale Perfume OilAdd to cart
Dost thou think, because thou art virtuous,
there shall be no more cakes and ale?
— Sir Toby Belch
Hell yeah, we’ll have cakes and ale: honey cakes and stout.
Diana Perfume OilAdd to cart
My temple stands in Ephesus: hie thee thither,
And do upon mine altar sacrifice.
There, when my maiden priests are met together,
before the people all,
Reveal how thou at sea didst lose thy wife:
To mourn thy crosses, with thy daughter’s, call
And give them repetition to the life.
Or perform my bidding, or thou livest in woe;
Do it, and happy; by my silver bow!
Artemis, standing in her golden chariot… driving off with her fast-trotting deer over the hills and far away to some rich-scented sacrifice: leather, gleaming golden amber, red amaranth, cypress, asphodel accord, a gleam of silver, and soft brown musk.
I Will be Strange, Stout, in Yellow Stockings Perfume OilOut of Stock
I thank my stars I am happy. I will
be strange, stout, in yellow stockings, and
cross-gartered, even with the swiftness of putting
on. Jove and my stars be praised!
Champaca absolute, lemon peel, basmati rice, smoked vanilla husk, and green tea.
Marina Perfume OilAdd to cart
When I was born:
Never was waves nor wind more violent.
A waving wet haze of blue and green: blackberry wine and soft oudh, cashmere woods, iris pallida, sea salt, and turquoise musk.
O Spirit of Love Perfume OilAdd to cart
O spirit of love! how quick and fresh art thou,
That, notwithstanding thy capacity
Receiveth as the sea, nought enters there,
Of what validity and pitch soe’er,
But falls into abatement and low price,
Even in a minute: so full of shapes is fancy
That it alone is high fantastical.
Effervescent rose chypre and bourbon vanilla.
The Last Syllable Perfume OilAdd to cart
INT.- THE STUDY – NIGHT.
The artist is at work at her desk. In front of her is a wall,
pinned with papers, photos, maps, lists. To her left is a
window. It is dark.
In front of her, her desk is piled high, with an assemblage
of papers, odd pieces of string, a mirror, a doll. A singed
straw figure. A 1970’s tape recorder. A destroyed cassette
tape. And more.
The artist picks up a magnifying glass from the pile. She
leans to examine the objects in detail.
We shift to a close up that moves through the objects, and
everything feels new under such examination. It is as though
we are in the landscape of her imagination.
Photos pinned to cool plaster walls, discarded papers, a web of strings, a mirror, a doll, singed straw, scattered books, and unfurled magnetic tape.