She watched the leaves flutter as she exhaled as slowly as she could. That would give her away.
She drew in the air deeply. Hoping to fill her lungs enough. She couldn’t chance them seeing the rustle of leaves.
The air burned her lungs as it pushed against her ribs and throat trying to escape. She focused on the sound of the forest but found only silence past the soft oxygen deprived ringing in her ears. She looked through the tiny spaces between the leaves.
Nothing.
Then she saw it.
A tiny tail of smoke rising to the treetops like a trail of incense smoke.
Incense is intense, the smell that invades your nostrils, your room, your soul.Incense is immense and immersive, it transports you, takes you into different realms and realities. Ancient ones, new ones, parallel ones.Incense is insane and in senses,
Sorry aber mein Engisch verläßt mich hier gerade. Incest ist es nicht, essence ist es auch nicht, also muss ich weiter raten. Census ist die Meinung vieler also in der Meinung vieler? keine Ahnung und zum Glück ist die Zeit jetzt auch um.
they bury him with incense, as is tradition. she remembers the strangers that came when he babe was born, bearing the gold, frankincense and myrrh. she remembers the incense the most, the smell of it wafting through the barn that was all she had. the smell of it then had given her hope that her child would grow up safe and happy, loved by all. the smell of it now makes her sick.
She could never forget it; the sweet incense of his perfume that lingered in the room long after he’d gone. The boy who lived was a domineering presence in her thoughts nowadays, and she wanted to write to someone, someone who would understand the agony she’s going through and offer her advice to deal with the same. She found her faithful confidante in a diary, and she poured her deepest desires to it. All of her went into the diary through ink which absorbed it quickly, but instead of healing, it stole her soul.
One of those stinky sticks that burns and smells only of smoke. I got in trouble once for burning one that smelt like cigarettes. The person who bought it for me was the one who told me off. I was a kid.
I can smell it coming from his bedroom across the hall. I know it’s from his bedroom because I was in there once when the landlord needed to talk to him but was afraid to go into his apartment. He thought Jacob was crazy, but actually, he was one of the sanest people I ever met. His room was messy and full of books; there were ashes all over the place, but (and this sounds strange I know) it wasn’t bad. They were sort of spread around, as though Jacob had had different places in the room he was really high and thinking about things, and the ashes sort of drifted from whatever he was smoking and landed quietly along with his thoughts. No, Jacob wasn’t strange at all. He was different. I found out, a long time after that, that people don’t really like different that much.
the smell was overwhelming; her eyes were watering from the density of it, an ache was forming behind her temples and throbbing. she was incensed and, all at once, stood up from her bench shrieking, “Enough!”.
I have fond memory of incense; particularly sandalwood. The boy I met in high school (and am still happily with) would burn it in his room when we were together. Every time I smell incense I think of these moments with him.
The sickly sweet scent (five times fast?) of incense filled the store’s one little room and knocked me right into a coughing fit the second I stepped inside. Eyes watering and throat working overtime to suppress that instinctive gag reflex, I bent double and set about hacking up my lungs. Dammit, all of these shops were the same! Was it too much to ask to buy a new dragon without the cheap gimmicks meant to make the norms attracted to enchantments and bottles and charms they had no hope of ever actually making use of?
smells. intoxicating smells. odors that crawl through your nose and into your pores, seeping into your lungs and relieving the tension formed from days on end of waiting. waiting. waiting that never seems to stop but somehow it does just from this one intake of relief
a gum, spice, or other substance that is burned for the sweet smell it produces.
“the sharp lingering sweetness of incense”
i dont know its meaning
its a gum meaning chewing gum
it is aromatic
The glow was bright. It reminded me of your eyes–full of secrets. Ashes began to fall into the tray, leaving a strong scent of “Zen” around the room. It smells a bit like your cologne. I try not to breathe in–afraid of my lungs filling with you. Afraid of you. I fall to the floor. Weak, unable to breathe, face red. You make me feel breathless. You take away my energy. You make me burn, like incense.
my husband used to burn this in our house all the time and all of our clothes would stink of inscence. i hated it at the time but i kinda miss it now. it was a really important part of our life and was a different time.
the bird was sitting on his branch and was thinking about planes. He thought that planes were cool. He was fat. His friend that human took him to be cooked. The bird thought that people were mean. Than thee apocolypse happened that day and all problems were gone.
I light incense in my house at night when the moon is yellow and pancakes fill my mouth and sometimes I eat pancakes with syrup because it tastes good and sometimes it tastes bad because I put too much syrup on there.
Incense means to me that nothing makes sense or that someone doesn’t understand something. Sometimes my family doesn’t understand things and they say its incense.
She watched the leaves flutter as she exhaled as slowly as she could. That would give her away.
She drew in the air deeply. Hoping to fill her lungs enough. She couldn’t chance them seeing the rustle of leaves.
The air burned her lungs as it pushed against her ribs and throat trying to escape. She focused on the sound of the forest but found only silence past the soft oxygen deprived ringing in her ears. She looked through the tiny spaces between the leaves.
Nothing.
Then she saw it.
A tiny tail of smoke rising to the treetops like a trail of incense smoke.
Incense is intense, the smell that invades your nostrils, your room, your soul.Incense is immense and immersive, it transports you, takes you into different realms and realities. Ancient ones, new ones, parallel ones.Incense is insane and in senses,
Smells
Candles
Lights
Sticks
Fire
Lighting
Scent
Wonderful
Sorry aber mein Engisch verläßt mich hier gerade. Incest ist es nicht, essence ist es auch nicht, also muss ich weiter raten. Census ist die Meinung vieler also in der Meinung vieler? keine Ahnung und zum Glück ist die Zeit jetzt auch um.
they bury him with incense, as is tradition. she remembers the strangers that came when he babe was born, bearing the gold, frankincense and myrrh. she remembers the incense the most, the smell of it wafting through the barn that was all she had. the smell of it then had given her hope that her child would grow up safe and happy, loved by all. the smell of it now makes her sick.
She could never forget it; the sweet incense of his perfume that lingered in the room long after he’d gone. The boy who lived was a domineering presence in her thoughts nowadays, and she wanted to write to someone, someone who would understand the agony she’s going through and offer her advice to deal with the same. She found her faithful confidante in a diary, and she poured her deepest desires to it. All of her went into the diary through ink which absorbed it quickly, but instead of healing, it stole her soul.
One of those stinky sticks that burns and smells only of smoke. I got in trouble once for burning one that smelt like cigarettes. The person who bought it for me was the one who told me off. I was a kid.
I can smell it coming from his bedroom across the hall. I know it’s from his bedroom because I was in there once when the landlord needed to talk to him but was afraid to go into his apartment. He thought Jacob was crazy, but actually, he was one of the sanest people I ever met. His room was messy and full of books; there were ashes all over the place, but (and this sounds strange I know) it wasn’t bad. They were sort of spread around, as though Jacob had had different places in the room he was really high and thinking about things, and the ashes sort of drifted from whatever he was smoking and landed quietly along with his thoughts. No, Jacob wasn’t strange at all. He was different. I found out, a long time after that, that people don’t really like different that much.
the smell was overwhelming; her eyes were watering from the density of it, an ache was forming behind her temples and throbbing. she was incensed and, all at once, stood up from her bench shrieking, “Enough!”.
I have fond memory of incense; particularly sandalwood. The boy I met in high school (and am still happily with) would burn it in his room when we were together. Every time I smell incense I think of these moments with him.
The incense in the room smelled of mangos. I had never been in an Indian home before. The smell me a weird chill.
The sickly sweet scent (five times fast?) of incense filled the store’s one little room and knocked me right into a coughing fit the second I stepped inside. Eyes watering and throat working overtime to suppress that instinctive gag reflex, I bent double and set about hacking up my lungs. Dammit, all of these shops were the same! Was it too much to ask to buy a new dragon without the cheap gimmicks meant to make the norms attracted to enchantments and bottles and charms they had no hope of ever actually making use of?
smells. intoxicating smells. odors that crawl through your nose and into your pores, seeping into your lungs and relieving the tension formed from days on end of waiting. waiting. waiting that never seems to stop but somehow it does just from this one intake of relief
The burning incense.
The lit candles.
The dim lights and the foggy atmosphere.
The herbs, spices, scents spread around.
The hair, plucked carefully from a forgotten hairbrush.
The ashes, tenderly laid out in position.
Finally, it was ready.
“I’ll bring you back, my love.”
a gum, spice, or other substance that is burned for the sweet smell it produces.
“the sharp lingering sweetness of incense”
i dont know its meaning
its a gum meaning chewing gum
it is aromatic
The glow was bright. It reminded me of your eyes–full of secrets. Ashes began to fall into the tray, leaving a strong scent of “Zen” around the room. It smells a bit like your cologne. I try not to breathe in–afraid of my lungs filling with you. Afraid of you. I fall to the floor. Weak, unable to breathe, face red. You make me feel breathless. You take away my energy. You make me burn, like incense.
reminding you that there are things out there you know nothing about. where does the smoke go?
my husband used to burn this in our house all the time and all of our clothes would stink of inscence. i hated it at the time but i kinda miss it now. it was a really important part of our life and was a different time.
it is supposed to smell: it has some sort of odor: it has sense; the sense is either mental or
the bird was sitting on his branch and was thinking about planes. He thought that planes were cool. He was fat. His friend that human took him to be cooked. The bird thought that people were mean. Than thee apocolypse happened that day and all problems were gone.
I light incense in my house at night when the moon is yellow and pancakes fill my mouth and sometimes I eat pancakes with syrup because it tastes good and sometimes it tastes bad because I put too much syrup on there.
Incense means to me that nothing makes sense or that someone doesn’t understand something. Sometimes my family doesn’t understand things and they say its incense.
we use it at church especially at Awaken which I am going to tonight. It is an amazing expierinence. go to it