‘'Returning from a mountain walk at nightfall in winter or at daybreak in summer. The path's forest and asphalt are damp from the last rain or dew.
Open the wooden chalet door, smell the wax of the old parquet floor, the smoking ashes of the fireplace, and in the entrance, freshly polished black leather boots, and, right next to it, the box and the shoe polish brush... The still open door where the wax, the wood, the ash, and the damp tar of the path merge.
In a few moments, in a few breaths, all its perfumes, smells, and essences mix to become Number I.’'