In the remote region of Mysore, smoking sandalwood breathes out its woody and milky soul to join the final oily, almondy breath of a split coconut served at nightfall. In the middle of the night, a murmur in the forest reawakens my instincts and calls to me; I chase after it through the sandalwood forest. The coolness of the darkness and the leaves on the trees whip our faces, brush against our bodies and carry us all the way to expanses of tuberose. Stretched along the white horizon, the sensual and solar scents glisten and exalt our bodies in carnal darkness.
