Today I remembered hypocrisy. They sell us love, faith, forgiveness, blessings, distraction, dreams. They sell anything if we are ready to buy It up. If it is hard to tell who ''they'' are, it could be because of us… All we ever wanted was everything. White-collared promises that children follow, a better tomorrow. Only if you work for it for every tomorrow. And me, waiting in the cold, snow on my face, rye in my pocket, hoping for answers for a different age. Society remains dying. And we have killed it. How shall we comfort ourselves, the murderers of all murderers? This fragrance is an exploration of synthetic, woody, and spicy notes.

Anarchist A_ opens with a striking accord of plastic and whisky, with a cool touch of snow. The heart reveals unusual notes of paper (like a bank note), candle wax, and ink. The base grounds the scent with more plastic, fresh aquatic notes, and resinous Somalian frankincense. This is a bold synthetic creation, with woody depth and a hint of spicy intrigue, complemented by smoky and leathery facets.