During the years or my infancy and almost all or my adolescence. My mother was everything to me. In her I found all the qualities, all the instinctive protections that children look for in feminine sweetness from the person who has spawned them. Even her scent seemed lo calm me down in moments of fear and excitation. And today, still, when I smell a certain perfume that reminds me of her, that sensation or beatitude that her embraces and her lap produced in me overcome me once again. What the scent would suggest was so strong, that even as an adult in a moment of solitude or sadness, I remember having followed a woman who gave off the same perfume as my mother’s through the streets of Paris.

Author text in Personal Memory