arici, vol. i of unspoken lines
a man stands still while the world pairs off around him. every couple is a direction he does not have.
he goes looking for the one person who could close that distance. doubt gets there before him.
the poem ends on a question. under the question, a warning.
i watch the world rushing by, like everyone else already knows the way,
only i remain still, caught between a dream and an ache.
i lie to myself that it all makes sense, that there’s still time left to come,
but the void weighs on me, like a shadow across my retina.
afraid to stumble again, to believe in a new beginning
when every road sells only one-way tickets, back into the past.
i wonder if it’s me, if i could ever be enough,
but i was born into a fate that made me transparent to the touch.
i write lines on paper, erase them, write again,
perhaps i’ll read them one day, when the rain no longer echoes.
until then, i stay on the edge, trying to understand
where i go wrong, what i’m chasing, why i keep losing ground.
is it my fault or do you simply not exist?
maybe you’ll come sooner before i become a hedgehog.
mă uit la lumea care aleargă, parcă toți știu ce vor
doar eu rămân pe loc, mă-mpiedic între vis și dor
mă mint că totul are sens, că mai e timp să vină
dar mă apasă golul, ca o umbră pe retină
mi-e teamă să mă împiedic iar, să cred într-un nou început
când toate drumurile par să aibă bilet doar dus, înspre trecut
mă-ntreb dacă-i problema la mine, dacă aș fi vreodată suficient
dar eu am fost sortit unui destin în care să fiu perceput drept transparent
scriu rânduri pe hârtie, le șterg și scriu din nou
poate le voi citi într-o zi, când n-o să mai plouă în ecou
dar până atunci, stau pe margine, încerc să înțeleg
unde greșesc, ce caut, de ce mă pierd, spre ce alerg
e vina mea sau pur și simplu nu exiști?
poate apari mai repede, până nu devin arici
“maybe you’ll come sooner
before i become a hedgehog.”
the last line of arici
the shell has not closed yet.
everything is there in the first breath.
a hedgehog closes slowly, layer by layer. arici does not wait for that.
the searching and the hollow arrive together, and the hope is already in them, the way doubt in the poem never settles into one feeling.
a face looked for in a crowded room.
violet leaf1 cuts the air, green and almost metallic. aldehydes2 make it thin as breath on a window, so nothing settles.
one thread carries the whole plea. mimosa3, kept close to the violet leaf, so the hope never gets comfortable.
cassie4 gives it depth and keeps it from winning.
the base never quite arrives.
suede5 gives the skin weight and holds the warmth back. a cold musk6 leaves a hollow. moss7, dry and bitter as paper written on and erased, keeps the ending open.
on skin it stays close and cool, like the glass of a window you lean your forehead against.
arici is what is left when the waiting starts to change you.
the quiet arithmetic after every couple that walks past.
the minute before the first spines grow. still soft, still hoping someone arrives before the shell closes.
extrait de parfum · 20% · 50 ml · 500 numbered bottles
price · €115
label & safety
the full ingredient list (inci) and the declared allergens are printed on the box. they will be published here in full before the first bottle is sold, together with the safety warnings.
for external use only. keep away from eyes. keep away from flames and heat. keep out of reach of children.
arici is in its final stage of formulation.
leave your address and you will hear first when the bottles are ready. the list costs nothing and commits you to nothing.
blended by hand. the cap is walnut, carved by hand. the poem travels in the box.