Datura
9.9.20
I
Datura must be a sommelier. They must assimilate with, and seek smell. The wine is entirely optional in this theoretic.
Why is smell so important? Because smell is the prodigal son of breath, and without breath you’ll find yourself in a bit of a bind there.
Smell can cook a meal (more on this later.) A good sense of smell is the highway between the head and the heart. You can taste the difference between the pesto who made love to the pine nut, and the one who fucked your plastic tupperware.
A passion… no, not even a passion. an awareness of smell indicates passion for invisible enthusiasms. Not the obvious ones, the hidden ones, the ones that define a moment without ever giving it a name.
In the mornings, my armpits smell of desert heat and jungle floor – in fact, all day I exude different varietals of Musk. My rebellious resistance to “Lavender Vanilla – All Day Protection!” reminds me that your essence, whatever that may be, is never something to be protected against. On days when we loose our senses, go blind to one another, let go of each others hand – let the smell of my shirt remind you of warmth and the joy of swinging on jungle vines.
People have alienated scent the way we’ve alienated nature. It is somehow other, outside of us. We treat it like something to use and mold, we ignore its world map and draw boundary lines across its olfactory relevance. Datura, you’ll know the smell of moist, the smell of sweat. You’ll think back on Italy’s olives and say “let’s dance in the rain.”