In the gardens and citrus groves of Pompei, the Silenus wanders, singing. With a light step and a pungent smile, he moves the leaves of the orange trees. The delicate flowers fall and emanate fresh green notes.

They are the places of “otium” and meditation, where the old Silenus, drunk, expresses with his music and his songs the amber notes of his ancient travels in the Mediterranean, echoing the eastern lands through the Sichuan pepper and the ylang ylang in a nostalgic marine accord.

The myth feds on nature and nature keeps the myth, in the woods, through the scent of flowers and fruits.

The Silenus is a sage, contemptuous of earthly goods, considered a seer who reveals the future only if forced. From his stories appear beached woods covered with algae and brackish water in the morning. Fantastic life stories made of sounds, smells, and tastes of carefree wine that inspire a persistent fragrance from the funds of precious woods and the cheerfulness of cedar wood.