All I care is for this sudden smell if I dare to ever hold my breath...I cannot. To wallow from this state of means to come to me in dreams and amidst conscious strolls. Do I forbear or do I endure such a beautiful strain? This aroma, what bliss will have me ensconced by waters and corollary of celestial instance. Happy as I not alone so ever in this amazement of chance. The sun has touched me today in ways so true, caressed in spite of these garments that sheathe me. They will not take me alive...I only care for beauty. Care for wealth, for relevance, or power...care elsewhere for such rottenness of the soul is contagious. ‘Contage’ me not, if you wish so not to see the wrath of a gentle man, of a gentleman. This smell will stay I will come to it by morrow. Smell on if this rave meets you, endure the pleasure of such scents as it’s zephyr may touch the walls of mortal nares. Smell on...beauty is by.