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Published fragrance reviews from Marieposa.
7 published reviews · 0 helpful votes
My heart is pounding. Beat after beat. In rhythm with my steps, it hammers against my ribs. The night is cold and the fog stings in my lungs. The taste of iron settles on my lips. A branch cracks loudly under my foot. My steps try to outpace the beats of my heart. I pull the red hood lower over my forehead. "Don't go t...
Read review →The smoke clouds from the detonations have followed me into the impenetrable black-green of the night forests, through the sharply cutting, towering grasses and ferns, to the barren branches of the dead tree. It feels as if I can hear their voices in the distance, barking harsh commands, fleeing the red-glowing saffron...
Read review →The smoke clouds from the detonations have followed me into the impenetrable black-green of the night forests, through the sharply cutting, towering grasses and ferns, to the barren branches of the dead tree. It feels as if I can hear their voices in the distance, barking harsh commands, fleeing the red-glowing saffron...
Read review →My heart is pounding. Beat after beat. In rhythm with my steps, it hammers against my ribs. The night is cold and the fog stings in my lungs. The taste of iron settles on my lips. A branch cracks loudly under my foot. My steps try to outpace the beats of my heart. I pull the red hood lower over my forehead. "Don't go t...
Read review →The smoke clouds from the detonations have followed me into the impenetrable black-green of the night forests, through the sharply cutting, towering grasses and ferns, to the barren branches of the dead tree. It feels as if I can hear their voices in the distance, barking harsh commands, fleeing the red-glowing saffron...
Read review →Satisfied, Mathilde brushed a strand of hair from her face, which had caught some orange lily pollen. She loved coming back to the tiny patisserie behind the Place Vendôme to treat herself to a little delicacy at the end of a long day. This morning, when the flowers for her four large orders had been delivered, she had...
Read review →April 25, 1943 Dear Mama, Paris has become sad and gray since the Germans arrived, but you will see, one day the guns will rest and the sirens will fall silent. Just wait, perhaps next summer we will harvest peaches and late plums again, laughing in the sunshine as their sweet juice flows over our hands. And no, don’t...
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