The bottle I was so careful with is now really empty. The brand no longer exists. So I have to look for a new fragrance. With my nose in front of the window of a large perfumery, I despair: everything that wafts out smells of vanilla cream puffs and roasted cotton candy. Not my taste. Then suddenly a fresh breeze. The woman who came to stand next to me smells absolutely delicious. She seems nice, so I ask the cheeky question about the name of her fragrance. She looks at me without understanding. “Perfume?” A broad smile: “No perfume. Mowing.”
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