One winter's morning, the house still asleep, the air filled with a soft, cottony warmth. Outside, the biting cold freezes the landscape under an immaculate veil, while inside, the subdued light caresses the still-warm sheets. It's that moment suspended between dream and awakening, when you curl up in the tenderness of the morning.
Pepper, iris, angelica root, vetiver, incense, white musk
Patrice Revillard
