A Grimoire: an ancient word for an ancient tome of spells, a sacred text, powerful in the right hands and dangerous in the wrong ones. Anatole Lebreton invites us to imagine such a volume, weathered by age and coated in dust, at the center of an overgrown cabin, invisible to all but the trained eye. An open window lets just the faintest sliver of light inside, along with the scents of green moss climbing the walls and a well-cultivated garden of herbs and spices, essential for the creation of magical objects. Dense clouds of incense dance in the light-beam, hinting at secrets unknowable, power as-of-yet untapped, waiting in a realm directly above and below our own. Warm, rich woods from the cabin walls and dusty paper from the pages of the book give rich body to the unique aroma inside, comforting but imposing, like a warm embrace you might never emerge from. An incense fragrance well beyond the confines of the modern world.
