Letter to the Perfume-lady I met today
Yes, I can smell you. Sharp. Like some evil lily-rose turned into a sword, slowly slicing up my head. It doesn’t help that the ka-ching of my cash register is fucking with me today. What is also fucking with me, is your perfume.
My brain feels it and communicates its feelings to me via head pain. And also dark spots in my vision. I am actually woozy. It reminds me of the smell of shit. In the sense that I thought how eventually, one gets used to the smell of shit. But this? This is some foul substance. Like some alien creature took a dump and this lady bottled up the aroma.