My Sleeves Are Already Wet

A playlist I encountered, led by the YouTube algorithm,

I clicked on it partly because the title, “If you’re interested, you should already be doing it,” gave me a slight jolt.

These days, everyone is so talented. If you use AI well, you can whip up anything, and quite excellent finished products at that.

The music is one thing, but the text added to the caption has lingered for days, damply, like the scent of figs.

Reading, listening, and savoring it makes me want to even smell the scent.

Marketing with such authenticity and a sharp insight is most welcome!

🖇️

Figs do not bloom their flowers outwardly.

Crushing the darkness within themselves, they brew themselves out,

That fierce silence soon becomes the fruit.

When someone tells me, “Someday, I want to create a scent like that,”

my fingertips were already bruised purple from peeling the macerated fig skins.

Interest is not a state of mind,

but like sleeves already soaked.

Even before scent strips piled up on the perfumer’s desk, deep within my lungs,

the sweet aroma of the fruit pulp was etched like a tattoo.

Those who truly desire something never utter the word ‘preparation’.

They simply push through the damp morning mist each day

to check the feel of the unripe fruit.

Admiration remains in concept,

but yearning is first proven by calluses on the palms and indelible stains.

Today, I once again plunge my hands deep into the figs.

Because that is the most honest and tender thing I can offer to the world.