Belief

  • The Butterfly

    Then one afternoon the butterfly wobbled out of a breeze and lit on the tip of her horn. He was velvet all over, dark and dusty, with golden spots on his wings, and he was as thin as a flower petal. Dancing along her horn, he saluted her with his curling feelers. “I am a roving gambler. How do you do?”

    Fuzzy brown tonka bean, golden amber, bergamot, and petitgrain.

    Out of Stock