Io Non Ho Mani Che Mi Accarezzino Il Volto

Myrrh and galbanum collide in an acrid green-resinous burst, sharp enough to make you catch your breath, with bergamot providing a brief citric flash before being swallowed by the fragrance's fundamentally bitter temperament. The petitgrain adds a whisper of brightness that feels almost apologetic against the composition's deliberate severity.

Cinnamon leaf and styrax emerge to create a spiced-resinous plateau, with clary sage contributing a slightly medicinal, herbal coolness that prevents the fragrance from becoming suffocating. Geranium and cedarwood provide structure—austere and linear, creating the illusion of depth without resorting to sweetness.

Frankincense and tobacco become the architectural skeleton as amber and benzoin warm fractionally beneath, whilst sandalwood and tonka add soft woody-creamy undertones that feel almost melancholic rather than comforting. The fragrance becomes a quiet meditation on absence, intensely personal and quietly narcotic.