Keiko Mecheri Precious Forest, It is entering the space of organic smell of woods, the living trees, rare timber and what lies beneath. A time punctuated as much by its difference as by any tiny moments that happen there. The soil seems to slip away under one’s steps and transports one through a surreal motion, to pass from one place – sandalwood, oudh, to another – incense and balms, and pass back into that olfactory space.
