Lido

In the dream, I smell the scent of Lido. The emotion of recognizing Venice from afar, its unmistakable silhouette in the mist, is a small relief that tastes like bergamot; but behind the composed elegance of the cedar, it already pinches a shiver of lemon. Venice is approaching, and the heart bursts with joy, lily of the valley, and iris: the joy of a dream that is becoming reality, is becoming a city, and a miracle, there in the middle of the water.

The scent

It is enchantment, it is amber and vanilla, this feeling of being almost there: the pier is almost close enough to touch it, but Venice has already begun to seduce you, sweet and sensual like the tonka bean, warm like sandalwood; you just perceive it, like a distant voice. But feel something sticky that slips over your heart, something like thick, warm honey, as mysterious as vetiver, as intense as patchouli. You are already in love with Venice, and you still don't know.