One of those cold, biting mornings. Pink pepper. The sun peeks through the heavy gray clouds. Sage oil. The wind slips through your clothes. Juniper berries. Morning dew wets the grass. Finally, the stable, the wooden doors, the burning smell of leather, wood, amber and honey. An old odor. Absolute matte green. The soft neigh of the horse. Fluve oil. The smell of freedom. Leather created in the wind, grass is heated by wood. Tonka Bean Absolute. Irish leather gallops on the horizon.