Thursday, August 23, 2007


French Quarter, New Orleans, originally uploaded by hanneorla.

was like an obscene phone call from nature. The air - moist, sultry, secretive, and far from fresh - felt as if it were being exhaled into one's face. Sometimes it even sounded like heavy breathing. Honeysuckle, swamp flowers, magnolia, and the mystery smell of the river scented the atmosphere, amplifying the intrusion of organic sleaze. It was aphrodisiac and repressive, soft and violent at the same time. In New Orleans, in the French Quarter, miles from the barking lungs of alligators, the air maintained this qulity of breath, although here it acquired a tinge of metallic halitosis, due to fumes expelled by tourist buses, trucks delivering Dixie beer, and, on Decatur Street, a mass-transit motor coach named Desire.
(Tom Robbins, Jitterbug Perfume)

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At August 24, 2007 10:08 AM, Blogger helg said...

Great passage from a classic novel for us perfume-lovers. Thanks for posting! (love the pic btw)


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