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Paradisio by Smelly Yeti Perfumery.
You don’t know exactly how many days there have been so far. Not many. It barely feels like any time at all. There are so many things without names. You do not know if you have a name yet. You have a name for your world, though, for the waterfalls and towers and swirling things in the sky…you call it World. Some of the flowers have names, too. Lilac, for the bunch that hangs down, so purple and soft. Lillies, the trumpeting bursts of color that surprise your feet in your wanderings. One of the Animals got a name today. He is called Wolf. And then there are Thing-That-Jumps and How-Do-They-Not-Fall-From-The-Sky-I-Tried-And-Fell, things you have no name for. There are many of those. The round,bright fruits that are sour and so sweet and make your hands sticky, and the way the air smells in the day when it is hot and warm. You want names for all of these. For the rough skin of the trees. For the soft skin of the Pink Flower. For the strange no-leg thing that whispers, whispers about breaking the rules, about the fruit that’s been calling to you. It’s a fruit you should not look at. None of the creatures of the Garden should. You cannot fight it though. No one can. Central to the Garden, it is its beating heart. The fruit hangs from the tree, so heavy, and there’s something about it you cannot ignore. You ask its name, and thing-with-no-legs responds. “It is Apple.”