Tobacco

  • lil2016web-san-cristobal-de-la-habana

    A Perfume That Tells a Story About My Daughter But Had a Name That Made Our Payment Processors All Feisty and Stuff So Now We Have To Change It and This is the New Name Yay

    White ginger blossoms, guava pulp, and mango with a touch of white tobacco and sea salt.

    This scent is being renamed, rewritten, and re-everything because PayPal doesn’t recognize poetic license, and neither does the US government.

    Nothing in this perfume comes from the Island Country That Shall Not be Named; nothing except the photo, the story, and a life experience. None of the components of this oil come from the Island Country That Shall Not be Named. There is nothing in this product that has an origin in the Island Country That Shall Not be Named. If you order A Perfume That Tells a Story About My Daughter But Had a Name That Made Our Payment Processors All Feisty and Stuff So Now We Have To Change It and This is the New Name Yay, please do not reference it by its previous name.

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  • Apple-III

    Apple III

    Appalachian black apple with sweet tobacco and patchouli, orange blossom, vanilla champaca, lavender, and white honey.

    Out of Stock
  • Banraku Theater

    Bunraku Theater

    Beeswax and hay absolute with sweet hops, pumpkin rind, and tobacco.

    Out of Stock
  • Christougenniatiko Dentrophobia

    Christougenniatiko Dentrophobia

    Fear of Christmas Trees

    Ghastly misshapen branches casting long, twisted shadows and clutching at you with prickly needle-like fingers: pine pitch, bone-white dried fir, and spruce tar with opoponax and blackened tobacco.

    Out of Stock
  • Conjunction of Mars and Saturn

    Conjunction of Mars and Saturn

    Daemonorops, star thistle, wild tobacco, and asafoetida intensified by hemlock accord, black musk seed, mortuary cypress, and black gum leaf.

    [Label illustration: Adolf Vogel]

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  • Dark Chocolate Black Tobacco and Vetiver
  • Day of Skulls 2013

    Day of Skulls 2013

    In Bolivia, many people hold to the tradition of keeping the skulls of their ancestors with them in their homes, caring for their remains. It is believed that each person has seven souls, and one of those souls stays with the skull after death, enabling a spirit to grant protection and prophetic dreams to their descendants, and to bless their families with good health and prosperity.

    The Bolivian Fiesta de las Natitas, or Dia de los Natitas, is a day of honor for these ancestors. Their skulls are dressed with fragrant blossoms, and offerings of cocoa leaves, alcohol, and cigarettes are made.

    White sandalwood, beeswax, and frankincense crowned by hydrangea, rose, and kantuta blossoms, dressed with tobacco, cocoa leaves and flowers from the sacred Cactus of the Four Winds.

    Out of Stock
  • Dead-Leaves-and-Tobacco
  • Dia de los Muertos

    Dia de los Muertos

    A joyous celebration of La Catarina, La Flaca, La Muerte… Glorious, Beautiful Death. In Mexico, death is not something to be feared or hated; She is embraced, loved, and adored. La Muerte is fêted, as the celebrant “…chases after it, mocks it, courts it, hugs it, sleeps with it; it is his favorite plaything and his most lasting love.” This is a Mexican paean to La Huesuda: dry, crackling leaves, the incense smoke of altars honoring Death and the Dead, funeral bouquets, the candies, chocolates, foods and tobacco of the ofrenda, amaranth, sweet cactus blossom and desert cereus.

    Out of Stock
  • Dia de los Muertos

    Dia de los Muertos 2013

    A joyous celebration of La Catarina, La Flaca, La Muerte… Glorious, Beautiful Death. In Mexico, death is not something to be feared or hated; She is embraced, loved, and adored. La Muerte is fêted, as the celebrant “…chases after it, mocks it, courts it, hugs it, sleeps with it; it is his favorite plaything and his most lasting love.” This is a Mexican paean to La Huesuda: dry, crackling leaves, the incense smoke of altars honoring Death and the Dead, funeral bouquets, the candies, chocolates, foods and tobacco of the ofrenda, amaranth, sweet cactus blossom and desert cereus.

    Out of Stock
  • Diable en Boite

    Diable en Boîte

    The crickets sing, and man’s o’er-labour’d sense
    Repairs itself by rest. Our Tarquin thus
    Did softly press the rushes, ere he waken’d
    The chastity he wounded. Cytherea,
    How bravely thou becomest thy bed, fresh lily,
    And whiter than the sheets! That I might touch!
    But kiss; one kiss! Rubies unparagon’d,
    How dearly they do’t! ‘Tis her breathing that
    Perfumes the chamber thus: the flame o’ the taper
    Bows toward her, and would under-peep her lids,
    To see the enclosed lights, now canopied
    Under these windows, white and azure laced
    With blue of heaven’s own tinct. But my design,
    To note the chamber: I will write all down:
    Such and such pictures; there the window; such
    The adornment of her bed; the arras; figures,
    Why, such and such; and the contents o’ the story.
    Ah, but some natural notes about her body,
    Above ten thousand meaner moveables
    Would testify, to enrich mine inventory.
    O sleep, thou ape of death, lie dull upon her!
    And be her sense but as a monument,
    Thus in a chapel lying! Come off, come off:
    As slippery as the Gordian knot was hard!
    ‘Tis mine; and this will witness outwardly,
    As strongly as the conscience does within,
    To the madding of her lord. On her left breast
    A mole cinque-spotted, like the crimson drops
    I’ the bottom of a cowslip: here’s a voucher,
    Stronger than ever law could make: this secret
    Will force him think I have pick’d the lock and ta’en
    The treasure of her honour. No more. To what end?
    Why should I write this down, that’s riveted,
    Screw’d to my memory? She hath been reading late
    The tale of Tereus; here the leaf’s turn’d down
    Where Philomel gave up. I have enough:
    To the trunk again, and shut the spring of it.
    Swift, swift, you dragons of the night, that dawning
    May bare the raven’s eye! I lodge in fear;
    Though this a heavenly angel, hell is here.
    One, two, three: time, time!
    – Iachimo, Cymbeline Act II, Scene 2

    There are few things more disturbing than a Jack in the Box. A strangely sinister, unnerving holiday scent: redwood, bitter clove, tonka, hemp accord, and tobacco with peach blossom, black currant, and red musk.

    Out of Stock
  • Dracul

    Dracul

    4.67 out of 5

    Named in honor of Vlad III, Tepes, of the Order of the Dragon. Black musk, tobacco, fir, balsam of peru, cumin, bitter clove, crushed mint, and orange blossom.

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  • Elegba

    Elegba

    4.33 out of 5

    The Spirit of the Divine Messenger, the Lord of the Crossroads, He Who Owns All Doors and Roads in this World. He is the intermediary between the Orishas and mankind, and stands at the intersection of humanity and the Divine. He opens all paths of communication, both mundane and Heavenly.

    His ofrenda contains coconut, tobacco and sweet, sugared rum.

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  • Famine

    Famine

    It was not surprising that she had recognized him, for his dark grey eyes stared out from his photo on the foil-embossed cover. Foodless Dieting: Slim Yourself Beautiful, the book was called; The Diet Book of the Century!

    Sleek black tea, tobacco leaf, frankincense, lilac, and white musk.

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  • Gaueko

    Gaueko

    5 out of 5

    The Basque God of Night and all the perils of the darkness. Though he is the God of the Danger that Lurks in the Gloom, he is kind to men and warns them against the nighttime hazards and sets rules of conduct for both the living and the dead as they travel through his domain. It is said that since the warm, vibrant daylight is for the living, the abodes of night are reserved for the dead. All who heed his counsel are protected, but woe be to any man that disobeys the laws of Gaueko: he is swift to punish those that would scorn his advice. Blackened sandalwood and misty lavender, with curling wisps of smoky tobacco, nag champa, and labdanum.

    Out of Stock
  • Gluggagægir

    Gluggagægir

    5 out of 5

    Favorite pastime: peeping in yer windows. What a creeper!  

    Spiced rum leather, frankincense, black cedar, sweet tobacco, and honey-gold sandalwood.

    Out of Stock
  • Hastur

    Hastur

    It wasn’t a dark and stormy night.

    It should have been, but that’s the weather for you. For every mad scientist who’s had a convienient thunderstorm just on the night his Great Work is finished and lying on the slab, there have been dozens who’ve sat around aimlessly under the peaceful stars while Igor racks up the overtime.

    But don’t let the fog (with rain later, temperatures dropping to around forty-five degrees) give anyone a false sense of security. Just because it’s a mild night doesn’t mean that dark forces aren’t abroad. They’re abroad all the time. They’re everywhere.

    They always are. That’s the whole point.

    Two of them lurked in a ruined graveyard. Two shadowy figures, one hunched and squat, the other lean and menacing, both of them Olympic-grade lurkers. If Bruce Springsteen had ever recorded “Born to Lurk,” these two would have been on the album cover. They had been lurking in the fog for over an hour now, but they had been pacing themselves and could lurk for the rest of the night if necessary, with still enough sullen menace left for a final burst of lurking around dawn.

    Finally, after another twenty minutes, one of them said: “Bugger this for a lark. He should have been here hours ago.”

    The speaker’s name was Hastur. He was a Duke of Hell.

    Smoky-sour labdanum, black patchouli, wet tobacco, and brimstone.

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  • Havana

    Havana

    Date palm, dried tobacco, snakeroot, and leather.

    Out of Stock
  • In Time of Plague

    In Time of Plague

    Adieu, farewell earth’s bliss!
    This world uncertain is:
    Fond are life’s lustful joys,
    Death proves them all but toys.
    None from his darts can fly;
    I am sick, I must die—
    Lord, have mercy on us!

    Rich men, trust not in wealth,
    Gold cannot buy you health;
    Physic himself must fade;
    All things to end are made;
    The plague full swift goes by;
    I am sick, I must die—
    Lord, have mercy on us!

    Beauty is but a flower
    Which wrinkles will devour;
    Brightness falls from the air;
    Queens have died young and fair;
    Dust hath closed Helen’s eye;
    I am sick, I must die—
    Lord, have mercy on us!

    Strength stoops unto the grave,
    Worms feed on Hector brave;
    Swords may not fight with fate;
    Earth still holds ope her gate;
    Come, come! the bells do cry;
    I am sick, I must die—
    Lord, have mercy on us!

    Wit with his wantonness
    Tasteth death’s bitterness;
    Hell’s executioner
    Hath no ears for to hear
    What vain art can reply:
    I am sick, I must die—
    Lord, have mercy on us!

    Haste therefore each degree
    To welcome destiny;
    Heaven is our heritage,
    Earth but a player’s stage.
    Mount we unto the sky;
    I am sick, I must die—
    Lord, have mercy on us!
    – Thomas Nashe

    Blackened roses against a backdrop of velvet opoponax, bitter clove, and tobacco abosolute.

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  • Incipient Madness

    Incipient Madness

    3 out of 5

    Alas, I feel how much even of incipient madness might have been discovered in the gorgeous and fantastic draperies, in the solemn carvings of Egypt, in the wild cornices and furniture, in the Bedlam patterns of the carpets of tufted gold! I had become a bounden slave in the trammels of opium, and my labors and my orders had taken a coloring from my dreams.

    A thunderous passion, conceived in obsession and nurtured in the bowels of delirium, that grasps in desperation through the darkest shadows of the ether. An unwholesome smoky musk, dark and sweet, laced with Virginia tobacco, honeyed black currant, and red patchouli.

    Out of Stock
  • Interfector

    Interfector

    5 out of 5

    There are two types of vampires that humans, and often other vampires, need to be wary of: the Interfectors and the Tombeur. The Interfectors are ruthless killers, ultimate hunters who view humans as livestock. They are brutal, but not necessarily cruel, and rarely toy with their prey. Universally, Interfectors perceive their transition into the vampiric state to be an initiation into a higher state of being, not transcendent or spiritual in nature, but rather a promotion to the top of the food chain.

    Ruthless, unfeeling, and inhumanly violent: tobacco, sharp woods, frankincense, and bunn.

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  • Kali

    Kali

    4.5 out of 5

    Kali, the Black One, is the fearless Goddess of Destruction, Creation, Energy [in her Shakti aspect] and Dissolution. Also named Kaliratri [Black Night] and Kalikamata [Black Earth-Mother], she is the fiercest aspect of Devi, the supreme mother goddess. Kali is a protector Goddess, the destroyer of evil spirits and guardian of the faithful. She, along with her consort Shiva, represent the unending cycle of death and birth, sexual union, creation and destruction. Kali annihilates ignorance, maintains the natural order of the world, and blesses those who strive for spiritual awareness and knowledge of true holiness with infinite tenderness and motherly love. The constant, unending Work of Creation is called the “The Play of Kali”.

    This perfume is a blend of the sacred blooms of cassia, hibiscus, musk rose, Himalayan wild tulip, lotus and osmanthus swirled with offertory dark chocolate, red wine, tobacco, balsam and honey.

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  • La Femme de Satan

    La Femme de Satan

    Nikolai Kalmakoff
    Red musk and cacao with clove, caramelized tobacco, aged patchouli, red currant, black leather, and vanilla-infused amber.

    Out of Stock
  • La Ronde du Sabbat

    La Ronde du Sabbat

    Louis Boulanger
    Oman frankincense, black clove, and tobacco tar.

    Out of Stock
  • Mars Ultor

    Mars Ultor

    4 out of 5

    Mars the Avenger

    Black amber and smoky vanilla with cistus, benzoin, caramelized tobacco, and blackened nutmeg.

    Out of Stock
  • Molly

    Molly, The Reaper of Justice

    White lime with lily of the valley, oudh, Himalayan cedar, nagarmotha, and tobacco for the sheen of raven feathers, and saffron, white honey, and amber for her fierceness, strength, and courage.

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  • Mr. Nancy

    Mr. Nancy

    Before Fat Charlie's father had come into the bar, the barman had been of the opinion that the whole karaoke evening was going to be an utter bust; but then the little old man had sashayed into the room, walked past the table of several blonde women with the fresh sunburns and smiles of tourists…He had tipped his hat to them, for he wore a hat, a spotless green fedora, and lemon-yellow gloves, and then he walked over to their table. They giggled….He was older than they were, much, much older; but he was charm itself, like something from a bygone age when fine manners and courtly gestures were worth something. The barman relaxed. With someone like this in the bar, it was going to be a good evening.

    Sugar cookies with bay rum, tobacco, and lime.

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  • Ogun

    Ogun

    Ogun is the Master of Iron, Lord of the Knife, the Toolmaker, the Supreme Hunter, the God of War. He is primal instinct, energy and motion, strife and resolution, effort and perspiration, locomotion, force, contraction and expansion. He is the lord of all mines and mineral wealth, and his energy is expressed in the transformation of sandstone into marble and carbon into diamonds. His control over transformation transcends this into the metaphorical: Ogun helps to shape the spirit, and hone it into something finer, and He compels us to look deep inside ourselves, searching for our true potential. He is physical might, ruler of the heart, giver of courage and sustainer of war, and is the bond that men fashion with one another during battle. He is gunpowder. Ogun is responsible for teaching mankind to fashion tools and weapons from iron, and his primary implements are the anvil, hammer, machete, rake, hoe, shovel, pick and pry. His favored animal is the dog, who shares his loyalty and unflagging strength.

    Ogun’s ofrenda is heavy and dark cigar tobacco, gin and juniper, melon, chili pepper and a touch of honey.

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  • Paysage

    Paysage

    Je veux, pour composer chastement mes églogues,
    Coucher auprès du ciel, comme les astrologues,
    Et, voisin des clochers écouter en rêvant
    Leurs hymnes solennels emportés par le vent.
    Les deux mains au menton, du haut de ma mansarde,
    Je verrai l’atelier qui chante et qui bavarde;
    Les tuyaux, les clochers, ces mâts de la cité,
    Et les grands ciels qui font rêver d’éternité.

    II est doux, à travers les brumes, de voir naître
    L’étoile dans l’azur, la lampe à la fenêtre
    Les fleuves de charbon monter au firmament
    Et la lune verser son pâle enchantement.
    Je verrai les printemps, les étés, les automnes;
    Et quand viendra l’hiver aux neiges monotones,
    Je fermerai partout portières et volets
    Pour bâtir dans la nuit mes féeriques palais.
    Alors je rêverai des horizons bleuâtres,
    Des jardins, des jets d’eau pleurant dans les albâtres,
    Des baisers, des oiseaux chantant soir et matin,
    Et tout ce que l’Idylle a de plus enfantin.
    L’Emeute, tempêtant vainement à ma vitre,
    Ne fera pas lever mon front de mon pupitre;
    Car je serai plongé dans cette volupté
    D’évoquer le Printemps avec ma volonté,
    De tirer un soleil de mon coeur, et de faire
    De mes pensers brûlants une tiède atmosphère.

    – – –

    More chasteness to my eclogues it would give,
    Sky-high, like old astrologers to live,
    A neighbour of the belfries: and to hear
    Their solemn hymns along the winds career.
    High in my attic, chin in hand, I’d swing
    And watch the workshops as they roar and sing,
    The city’s masts — each steeple, tower, and flue —
    And skies that bring eternity to view.

    Sweet, through the mist, to see illumed again
    Stars through the azure, lamps behind the pane,
    Rivers of carbon irrigate the sky,
    And the pale moon pour magic from on high.
    I’d watch three seasons passing by, and then
    When winter came with dreary snows, I’d pen
    Myself between closed shutters, bolts, and doors,
    And build my fairy palaces indoors.

    A dream of blue horizons I would garble
    With thoughts of fountains weeping on to marble,
    Of gardens, kisses, birds that ceaseless sing,
    And all the Idyll holds of childhood’s spring.
    The riots, brawling past my window-pane,
    From off my desk would not divert my brain.
    Because I would be plunged in pleasure still,
    Conjuring up the Springtime with my will,
    And forcing sunshine from my heart to form,
    Of burning thoughts, an atmosphere that’s warm.
    — Charles Baudelaire, translation by Roy Campbell

    The pale moon pouring magic: Tunisian opium and mugwort with blackened bourbon vanilla, tuberose, glittering white musk, datura accord, wild plum, and tobacco absolute.

    Out of Stock
  • Perversion

    Perversion

    4.5 out of 5

    The perfect scent to wear to your next bondage ball, dungeon adventure or sojourn to your favorite pleasure dome. Smoky rum and black tobacco with a whisper of steamy leather with a splash of crystalline chardonnay, layered over a sensual, sweet, and deceptively magnetic base of tonka.

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  • Phoenix and Dragon

    Phoenix and Dragon

    Incense-blackened oudh and bourbon vanilla with tobacco absolute and 9-year aged patchouli.

    Out of Stock
  • Plunder

    Plunder

    3.25 out of 5

    The scent of a pirate's bumboat, overflowing with stolen wares: tea leaf, cassia, cinnamon bark, clove, allspice, sandalwood, tobacco, peppercorn, and nutmeg.

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  • Pure Applesauce

    Pure Applesauce

    3 out of 5

    King vs Burwell

    The Court claims that the Act must equate federal and state establishment of Exchanges when it defines a qualified individual as someone who (among other things) lives in the “State that established the Exchange,” 42 U. S. C. §18032(f )(1)(A). Otherwise, the Court says, there would be no qualified individuals on federal Exchanges, contradicting (for example) the provision requiring every Exchange to takethe “ ‘interests of qualified individuals’ ” into accountwhen selecting health plans. Ante, at 11 (quoting §18031(e)(1)(b)). Pure applesauce.

    Our applesauce is decidedly impure: mashed apples with sugar and honey, slivered with tobacco tar and black tea.

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  • Roadhouse

    Roadhouse

    1 out of 5

    Truck stop sleaze. Weedy dandelion and hops with a whiff of tobacco and hemp and a swirl of booziness.

    Out of Stock
  • Sarah-rev

    Sarah, The Mother Bear

    4 out of 5

    Practical scents – warm, nurturing, wise, and strong: tonka bean, soft brown leather, myrrh, white sage, gurjum balsam, Ceylon cinnamon bark, red sandalwood, sweet tobacco, and a touch of gunsmoke.

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  • Sherlock

    Sherlock Holmes

    3.75 out of 5

    My name is Sherlock Holmes.  It is my business to know what other people don’t know.

    A fastidiously clean scent, with a dash of pipe and cigarette tobacco. Faintly beneath, you catch the fragrance of a smear of greasepaint, a stray horsehair, and a whisper of Moroccan leather and rosin.

    Out of Stock
  • singlenote-bulgariantobaccoLORES
  • Boticelli's unicorn

    St. Clare

    4.5 out of 5

    White sandalwood and tonka with sweet tobacco incense, vanilla-infused mahogany, rum absolute, and golden oudh.

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  • Tavern of Hell

    Tavern of Hell

    3.33 out of 5

    Sometimes I would venture from my sepulchre to the jazz of night Paris, where having gathered the colours, I would think them over in front of the fire. I could be seen walking through a funeral corridor of my house and descending down a black spiral of steep stairs; rushing underground to Montmartre, all impatience to see the fiery rubies of the Moulin Rouge cross. I wondered thereabouts, then bought a ticket to watch frenzied delirium of feathers, vulgar painted lips and eyelashes of black and blue.

    Naked feet, and thighs, and arms, and breasts were being flung on me from bloody-red foam of translucent clothes. The tuxedoed goatees and crooked noses in white vests and toppers would line the hall, with their hands posed on canes. Then I found myself in a pub, where the liqueurs were served on a coffin (not a table) by the nickering devil: “Drink it, you wretched!” Having drunk, I returned under the black sky split by the flaming vanes, which the radiant needles of my eyelashes cross-hatched. In front of my nose a stream of bowler hats and black veils was still pulsing, foamy with bluish green and warm orange of feathers worn by the night beauties: to me they were all one, as I had to narrow my eyes for insupportable radiance of electric lamps, whose hectic fires would be dancing beneath my nervous eyelids for many a night to come.

    White gardenia, ambergris bouquet, lavender fougere, orange blossom, melissa, tobacco flower, coriander, ebony wood, ylang ylang, absinthe and aged whiskey.

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  • Antikythera Mechanism

    The Antikythera Mechanism

    4.47 out of 5

    Bronze gears spin inside a polished wooden case, and an entire universe dances within.

    Teakwood, oak, black vanilla, and tobacco.

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  • The Black Rider

    The Black Rider

    4.5 out of 5

    As she stood there a third man on horseback came galloping up. His face was black, he was dressed all in black, and the horse he rode was coal-black. He galloped up to the gate of the hut and disappeared there as if he had sunk through the ground and at that moment the night came and the forest grew dark.

    But it was not dark on the green lawn, for instantly the eyes of all the skulls on the wall were lighted up and shone till the place was as bright as day. When she saw this Vasilissa trembled so with fear that she could not run away.

    Black leather, oppoponax, tobacco, and black amber.

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  • The Buggre Alle This Bible

    The Buggre Alle This Bible

    The book was commonly known as the Buggre Alle This Bible. The lengthy compositor’s error, if such it may be called, occurs in the book of Ezekiel, chapter 48, verse five:

    2. And bye the border of Dan, fromme the east side to the west side, a portion for Afher.
    3. And bye the border of Afhter, fromme the east side even untoe the west side, a portion for Naphtali.
    4. And bye the border of Naphtali, from the east side untoe the west side, a portion for Manaffeh.
    5. Buggre all this for a Larke. I amme sick to mye Hart of typefettinge. Master Biltonn if no Gentelmann, and Master Scagges noe more than a tighte fisted Southwarke Knobbefticke. I telle you, onne a daye laike thif Ennywone half an oz. of Sense should bee oute in the Sunneshain, ane nott Stucke here alle the liuelong daie inn thif mowldey olde By-Our-Lady Workefhoppe.
    6 And bye the border of Ephraim, from the east fide even untoe the west fide, a portion for Reuben.

    [The Buggre Alle This Bible was also noteworthy for having twenty seven verses in the third chapter of Genesis, instead of the more usual twenty four.

    They followed verse 24, which in the King James version reads:

    “So he drove out the man; and he placed at the east of the garden of Eden Cherubims, and a flaming sword which turned every way, to keep the way of the tree of life,” and read:

    25 And the Lord spake unto the Angel that guarded the eastern gate, saying Where is the flaming sword which was given unto thee?
    26 And the Angel said, I had it here only a moment ago, I must have put it down some where, forget my own head next.
    27 And the Lord did not ask him again.

    It appears that these verses were inserted during the proof stage. In those days it was common practice for printers to hang proof sheets to the wooden beams outside their shops, for the edification of the populace and some free proofreading, and since the whole print run was subsequently burned anyway, no one bothered to take up this matter with the nice Mr. A. Ziraphale, who ran the bookshop two doors along and was always so helpful with the translations, and whose handwriting was instantly recognizable.]

    Crumbling paper and ancient cracked leather with a touch of tobacco leaf and incense.

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  • AGWEB-the ifrit

    The Ifrit

    3.5 out of 5

    The taxi driver comes out of the shower, wet, with a towel wrapped around his midsection. He is not wearing his sunglasses, and in the dim room his eyes burn with scarlet flames.

    Salim blinks back tears. “I wish you could see what I see,” he says.

    “I do not grant wishes,” whispers the ifrit, dropping his towel and pushing Salim gently, but irresistibly, down onto the bed.

    Desert sand, red musk, blackened ginger, dragon's blood resin, black pepper, cinnamon, and tobacco.

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  • The Parliament of Monsters

    The Parliament of Monsters

    You pass through the golden mouth, and find yourself inside a narrow, cramped corridor. Large wooden paintings of skeletal hands crook their bony fingers, leading you forwards. At the first turn, you hear a bizarre jumble of sounds: the high-pitched sound of gears grinding, metal on metal, the sound of sultry, low-pitched laughter, a clattering, wings flapping, soft hissing. Suddenly, a sharp howl pierces the darkness. As you make your way around the corner you are momentarily blinded as floodlights flicker to life, and thirteen gold-gilded stages are illuminated, bathed from beneath in sinister, caramel-colored light.

    Dust, incense, wet tobacco, singed straw, and a curl of opium smoke.

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  • Tiresias

    Tiresias, The Androgyne

    Upon the next stage, a spotlight is focused on a mammoth bronze sculpture of two snakes entwined. Their bodies are wrapped around each other in an intimate embrace, and their tongues touch suggestively. The deep, somber boom of a standing bass leads into a twelve-string guitar’s plaintive moan, and as the music swells, a stunning, statuesque woman steps out from behind the statue, her fierce and regal face in profile. The spotlight dims to a deep amber-red, and shines a dark, sanguine light onto her, tinting her long, wild hair the color of blood. She sings:

    Sunday is gloomy, my hours are slumberless.
    Dearest, the shadows I live with are numberless.
    Little white flowers will never awaken you,
    Not where the black coach of sorrow has taken you.
    Angels have no thought of ever returning you.
    Would they be angry if I thought of joining you?
    Gloomy Sunday.

    She turns, and abruptly faces left. Her features are coarser, more masculine, and you notice the rough, dusky shadow of an evening beard on the singer’s face. On this side, the hair is cropped short, and as s/he sighs and begins the next verse, you hear the voice deepen to a weathered, sorrowful baritone.

    Gloomy is Sunday; with shadows I spend it all.
    My heart and I have decided to end it all.
    Soon there’ll be candles and prayers that are sad, I know.
    Death is no dream, for in death I’m caressing you.
    With the last breath of my soul I’ll be blessing you.
    Gloomy Sunday.

    The singer turns to face the audience, and your senses reel. On the left side, the features are sharp, but feminine. You can see the curve of her breast, the soft fullness of her hips, the arch of her fine brow. On the right, it is the body of an Adonis, muscular and commanding. You see that a thick seam runs down the center of the body, stitched roughly.

    Though the vision is disconcerting, the warmth and passion in the singer’s voice swells inside your heart, and you are spellbound. Enraptured, you realize that though the gender is opposed on either side, one soul binds the whole.

    Dark, moody, and bittersweet: black currant, patchouli, tobacco, cinnamon leaf, caramel, muguet, and red sandalwood.

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