JOVOY PARIS

A venerable Roman chapel in the south of Italy or a monastery lost in the perfumed hills of Greece… Here, time has no importance. There is only eternity. On the cool flagstones, worn to a satiny polish over the centuries, the Mediterranean summer’s burning caress exalts an infinite love, almost holy. Suspended in the air a perfume of mysticism and mystery, hinting at a torrid, almost violent fever. Incense, olibanum and myrrh, immemorial aromas for entire, impetuous passion, ready for communion.