OUD ABRAMAD - BDK PARFUMS

At dusk the palace doors close. The light marble kept out the stifling heat of the day. You would suddenly believe that the garden was calming down and that the trees were opening their arms. The desert night advances under the arcades and the garden is surrounded by dark alcoves. Someone passes silently in the falling darkness. We hear the muffled sound of a fabric waving like a cape. the discreet sound of patinating leather. The slow, haughty figure passes through the silent garden. Maybe it's Abramad. A heavy door opens and lets in a little light. A proud shadow stretches across the stone in the crack of golden light. She disappears. You have to look up towards the seven windows of the palace, open like large black eyes. In the silent darkness, someone stands there, facing the desert.