As soon as a tiny drop of Délivre Moi touches my skin, it stirs forgotten sensations of pleasure mingled with sweet despair. I travel space and time and perhaps another dimension, further deep in to the darkest corners of my twisted psyche. It starts softly, like an old creaking record playing a forgotten song of some distant past, one that perhaps never existed. As I try to grasp on the faint pleasure of grief I am transported there.
I find myself in an old room I used to spend much time in distant past. It’s the same house,the room, the white starched curtains on the small wooden windows.The same loudly ticking ancient clock, The same indigo blue vase on the table. Yet everything looks different somehow. I slowly open a creaking old drawer I have just unlocked with a tiny blackened key. The drawer is located in the centre lower part of the old wooden wardrobe. The air swiftly fills with a thousand mingled scents of old wood, camphor and all other fragrant smells that reek of lost memories. As I slowly open the drawer I see some darkened, dirty and faded photographs. I swiftly take them one by one examining the faces of long-dead people, I see their lively eyes frozen in a moment. Those faces look so familiar yet so distant. I know I am their flesh and blood, even if we never met. I can no longer bear to look at them as the feeling of yearning overpowers me, so I put them all away.
I further lift some yellowed magazines out of the drawer, old rusty coins, a black lace handkerchief, all torn and falling apart. This handkerchief was only used at funerals, to adorn the act of mourning. I lift an old small leather case holding a rusted razor with a shiny black haft. I put it on the ground, with the remains of fear that I might purposefully cut myself by accident.
I touch a layer of stained yellow papers when suddenly my fingers grasp the softest pale green silk, aged with time, full of little holes and stains, still delicate, fragile and enchanting. With shaking hands I slowly pull the bundle out and it unfolds into the most beautiful dress gown. I lift it up to my face, carefully trying it on. And then I suddenly see my reflection in the peeled antique dusty mirror, I’m mesmerized. I slowly unbutton a thousand buttons and slip inside. The softest cold silk gently caresses my skin as I spin in front of the mirror. The fabric heats on my skin revealing hidden smells of hope, joy and despair. I am no longer me as I’m trapped in this bitter sweet memory, but I don’t want to shake it off. As I’m humming softly the melody of the old record, the cellphone rings and I’m back to the most boring reality.