By the way, today's script comes to us courtesy of DeepSeek V four Pro. So if something sounds unusually clever, that's why.
I'll be watching for the bugs Daniel mentioned.
He said when it works it's fulfilling.
Daniel sent us this one — and it's actually a bit of a winding path. He starts by reflecting on how the show's memory system works, this whole Pinecone vector database thing where fragments of past episodes get stored and retrieved mathematically. He finds agentic AI fascinating and fulfilling, even with the bugs. But the real prompt is about phases. Daniel says one defining feature of his personality is cycling through intense interests, something that's stabilized with ADHD treatment. One of the more colorful phases was discovering frankincense. He went down to the old city of Jerusalem, got supplies, fell in love with the smell, then discovered he was asthmatic and fumigating his office with burned resin wasn't sustainable. So he pivoted. Found enthusiast communities, body sprays, even frankincense and myrrh washing powder — which his wife Hannah vetoed, and that's a whole other story. But the lasting discovery from all this was perfume oils. He has a friend Marcus who pointed out that people in the ancient world lathered on perfume oils not because they loved fragrance but because there was no deodorant. Daniel wants to talk about perfume oils as a form of perfumery that predates spray cologne, still popular in the East, increasingly discovered in the West. He mentions attars and wants to discuss frankincense as a cosmetic and perfume oils generally.
There's a lot to unpack there, but I want to start with Marcus's observation because it's one of those comments that reframes everything. When you read ancient texts and they're anointing themselves with oils, you think it's luxury or ritual. But the practical reality is that human bodies produce odor, and for most of history the solution was oil-based fragrance applied directly to skin.
Which makes you wonder whether the ritual significance came first or the practical need.
The archaeological record suggests practical came first. The earliest evidence of perfumery goes back to Mesopotamia around four thousand years ago. There's a female chemist named Tapputi mentioned on a cuneiform tablet from around twelve hundred BCE in Babylon — she's the first recorded perfumer in history. She used oil as a base, distilled flowers and other botanicals. The word "perfume" itself comes from the Latin per fumum, meaning "through smoke," which connects directly to frankincense and myrrh being burned as incense.
Daniel burning frankincense in his office was actually closer to the original method than spraying cologne from a bottle.
And the frankincense trade itself is one of the great economic stories of antiquity. The resin comes primarily from Boswellia trees that grow in a very narrow band — southern Oman, Yemen, Somalia, parts of Ethiopia. The ancient kingdom of Sheba, which is modern Yemen, controlled much of this trade. There's a reason the Queen of Sheba showing up in Jerusalem with camel loads of spices and frankincense was a big deal in the biblical account. She wasn't just being polite — she controlled one of the most valuable trade commodities in the world.
This is the region Daniel's living in, reading these texts weekly, where frankincense would have been as familiar as olive oil. The incense altar in the Temple in Jerusalem had a specific formula, and frankincense was a component. So when he's walking through the old city and finds frankincense, he's essentially stumbling onto a supply chain that's been running for three thousand years.
The land of Israel sat at the crossroads of the frankincense trade routes. Caravans from southern Arabia would move up the Arabian Peninsula, along the Red Sea coast, and then fan out toward the Mediterranean. The Nabateans — the people who built Petra — made their fortune controlling these trade routes. Frankincense was literally worth more than gold at certain points. The Romans burned it by the ton at funerals and state ceremonies. Nero supposedly burned an entire year's harvest of frankincense at his wife Poppaea's funeral.
Which is either a grand romantic gesture or evidence that absolute power and grief are a terrible combination.
But here's the thing that connects to Daniel's perfume oil discovery — those ancient fragrances weren't alcohol-based. Alcohol distillation for perfumery doesn't really take off until the Islamic Golden Age, around the ninth or tenth century. Before that, everything was oil-based. You'd have a carrier oil — sesame, moringa, olive oil, later almond oil — and you'd steep botanicals, resins, spices in it, sometimes for months. These oil-based perfumes are what Cleopatra would have worn, what King David would have been anointed with.
When Daniel picks up a bottle of perfume oil or an attar, he's using a product category that would be immediately recognizable to someone from three millennia ago. That's a pretty direct thread.
Attar specifically — Daniel mentioned the term — is the traditional Indian and Middle Eastern form of perfume oil. The word comes from the Arabic itr, meaning fragrance. Traditional attars are distilled into a sandalwood oil base, which acts as a fixative. Sandalwood oil is remarkable because it's one of the few natural substances that actually improves with age. A well-made attar can mature over years or decades, getting deeper and more complex.
Wait, so unlike wine, which peaks and declines, sandalwood-based perfume oil just keeps getting better?
I've read accounts of attars that are forty or fifty years old being incredibly prized. The sandalwood oil slowly polymerizes and the fragrance molecules bind more tightly. It's a living product in a way that alcohol-based perfume isn't. Alcohol is volatile — it evaporates quickly, which is why spray cologne gives you that big initial blast but then fades. Oil-based fragrances sit close to the skin and release slowly over hours.
That explains something Daniel mentioned — that perfume oils last well on the skin. I've noticed the same thing with solid colognes I've tried. You get less projection but more longevity.
That's the fundamental trade-off. Alcohol-based fragrances project — they throw scent into the air around you. In the early twentieth century, when spray cologne became dominant in the West, part of the appeal was exactly that — you walk into a room and people notice. Perfume oils are more intimate. Someone has to be close to smell them, but they'll still be there six or eight hours later.
Which actually sounds better for most social situations where you don't want to announce yourself from across the room.
And there's a skin chemistry angle too. Alcohol can be drying and irritating. Perfume oils actually moisturize while they scent. For people with sensitive skin or conditions like eczema, oil-based fragrances can be much more comfortable. Also, alcohol-based fragrances evolve rapidly on skin because the alcohol carries off the top notes quickly — you get that bright citrus or herbal opening, then it's gone in fifteen minutes. Perfume oils unfold much more slowly. The transition from top to heart to base notes can take hours instead of minutes.
Daniel mentioned he has asthma, which is part of why burning frankincense resin didn't work for him. I'd imagine alcohol-based spray colognes could also be problematic — you're aerosolizing fragrance and alcohol right near your face.
Spray colognes can be respiratory irritants for a lot of people. Perfume oils, applied with a rollerball or dabbed on, don't have that issue. There's no aerosolization. You're putting a small amount directly on pulse points.
Let's talk about what Daniel actually found when he went looking. He mentioned niche websites, enthusiast communities. What does the modern perfume oil landscape look like?
It's fascinating. There's been a genuine revival in the last decade or so. Part of it is the broader niche fragrance movement — people wanting to smell different from everyone else wearing the same designer scents. Part of it is interest in natural and traditional products. And part of it is simply that the internet made it possible. Twenty years ago, if you wanted a traditional Indian attar, you basically had to go to India or know someone who did. Now there are dozens of small houses shipping worldwide.
Are we talking about individual artisans or larger operations?
On one end you have traditional attar makers in Kannauj, India — that's the historic center of attar production. Kannauj has been making attars for hundreds of years, using copper stills called degs and traditional hydro-distillation methods passed down through families. They make rose attar, jasmine attar, vetiver attar, and a famous one called shamama, a complex blend of spices and florals and woods that's often aged for years. On the other end, you have independent perfumers in the US and Europe working in the oil format, sometimes because they prefer the medium, sometimes because they're making solid perfumes that use oil or wax bases. Some are doing remarkable work with ingredients like oud — agarwood oil — that's hugely popular now.
Oud is having a moment, isn't it?
A massive moment. Oud has gone from something most Westerners had never smelled to being featured in high-end designer fragrances. Tom Ford's Oud Wood came out in 2007 and kind of opened the door. Now every major house has an oud offering. But the real stuff — wild agarwood oil that's been infected with a specific mold and then aged — can cost more than gold by weight. There's a whole culture of oud connoisseurship in the Gulf states that's incredibly sophisticated.
Daniel's frankincense fits right into this. Frankincense essential oil, frankincense absolute, frankincense co-distilled with other materials — it's all part of the same world.
Frankincense is actually a fascinating perfume material because there are multiple varieties that smell very different. Boswellia sacra from Oman and Yemen is the classic — citrusy, piney, with a kind of ethereal quality. Boswellia carterii from Somalia is more lemony and sharp. Boswellia serrata from India is earthier, more resinous. Boswellia frereana, sometimes called Coptic frankincense, is almost sweet and is often chewed as gum. So when Daniel says he discovered frankincense, the specific variety matters a lot for what he was smelling.
I didn't know people chewed frankincense.
In Somalia and parts of the Middle East, it's chewed like gum. It's supposed to be good for dental health and digestion. The resin is edible — it's been used in traditional medicine for millennia. There's actual modern research on boswellic acids showing anti-inflammatory properties. It's being studied for arthritis and inflammatory bowel disease.
Daniel's frankincense phase was arguably a health kick that got out of hand.
In the best way. And his trajectory from burning resin to perfume oil is actually a pretty logical progression. You start with the raw resin because that's the most direct experience. Then you realize it's impractical for daily use. So you look for ways to wear it.
Let's get practical for a minute, because Daniel mentioned that his friend Marcus said people in the old world used perfume oils because there was no deodorant. And that raises a question: do perfume oils actually function as deodorant? Do they address body odor or just cover it?
That's an important distinction. Perfume oils don't stop perspiration and they don't kill odor-causing bacteria the way modern deodorants and antiperspirants do. What they do is more interesting. Many of the materials used in traditional attars have antimicrobial properties — sandalwood oil, frankincense oil, rose oil all have demonstrated antibacterial effects. So there's a mild preservative effect on the skin. But mostly, the function was exactly what Marcus said — you're adding a pleasant scent to skin that would otherwise develop body odor over the course of a day.
In a world where everyone bathed less frequently and wore natural fibers that held onto smells, this wasn't optional — it was baseline grooming.
The ancient Egyptians had elaborate perfume rituals. They associated fragrance with purity and divinity. The Greek and Roman baths often included oiling and scenting the body afterward. In the medieval Islamic world, personal fragrance was considered part of hygiene and hospitality. Offering rose water or perfume oil to guests was standard practice.
Which still happens. If you go to someone's home in parts of the Middle East, they might pass around a bottle of perfume oil or incense after a meal.
Daniel's living in Jerusalem — he's probably encountered this. It's a living tradition, not a museum piece.
Let's talk about the enthusiast communities he found. What are people actually discussing in these forums? What are the debates?
Oh, it's a deep rabbit hole. There are debates about natural versus synthetic materials — traditional attars are all-natural by definition, but many modern perfume oils use synthetic aroma chemicals to achieve effects that natural materials can't. There are debates about aging — whether an attar needs six months or five years to reach its peak. There are discussions about sourcing — which sandalwood oil is real Mysore versus Australian plantation sandalwood, because Mysore sandalwood is heavily restricted now due to overharvesting.
Mysore sandalwood is the gold standard?
It's legendary. Santalum album from the Mysore region of India has a richness and creaminess that other sandalwood species don't quite match. But it was so overharvested that India essentially banned the export of raw sandalwood and heavily regulated the industry. Most of what's sold as Mysore sandalwood today is either from government auctions of older stock or it's not actually Mysore. The fragrance world is full of stories about counterfeit sandalwood oil.
It's like the olive oil industry — rampant fraud because the premium product is scarce and expensive.
Very similar dynamic. And just like olive oil, there are people who can tell the difference and people who think they can but can't.
What about frankincense specifically in perfume oils? Daniel mentioned finding some with frankincense and some without.
Frankincense works beautifully in oil-based perfumes because it's a resin, and resins dissolve well in oil. In fact, oil extraction captures aspects of frankincense that alcohol extraction misses. Frankincense contains both volatile aromatic compounds and heavier resinous molecules. Alcohol tends to emphasize the bright, citrusy top notes. Oil pulls out more of the deep, balsamic, almost incense-like character. If you've ever smelled frankincense essential oil versus the raw resin being heated, they're quite different, and the oil-based perfume is closer to the heated resin experience.
That's actually useful information for someone trying to figure out what to buy. You're saying if Daniel loved the smell of burning frankincense in his office, an oil-based frankincense fragrance would get him closer to that than an alcohol-based cologne.
Because the oil holds onto those heavier molecules. It's also why frankincense in perfume oil lasts so long on skin — those resinous base notes can persist for twelve hours or more.
You mentioned earlier that the modern perfume oil revival is partly driven by the internet. What's the actual market look like? Are there brands our listeners might have heard of?
The niche perfume oil world is still pretty fragmented, but there are a few notable players. In the attar space, you have traditional Indian houses like S. Mohammed Ayub and Co. in Kannauj, or ML Ramnarain, which has been around since the 1800s. In the Middle East, houses like Abdul Samad Al Qurashi and Ajmal have been making perfume oils and oud oils for generations and now have international distribution. On the more indie Western side, there are houses like Alkemia Perfumes, Solstice Scents, Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab — though BPAL is alcohol-based for many scents, they do oil formats too. There's a whole category on Etsy of small-batch perfume oil makers. The quality spectrum is enormous.
How does someone who's curious — like Daniel was when he first went to the old city — figure out what's good?
Sampling is everything in this world. Almost every serious perfume oil house sells sample sets or small vials. You can get a one or two milliliter vial for a few dollars and try it on your skin for a few days. Skin chemistry is so individual that you really can't judge a fragrance from a description or even from smelling the bottle. You have to wear it.
Why does skin chemistry matter so much for oils specifically?
Because oils interact with your skin's natural oils and your body heat in ways that are very personal. The same attar can smell completely different on two people. PH, diet, medications, even stress levels can change how a fragrance develops. This is true for alcohol-based perfumes too, but it's more pronounced with oils because they're sitting directly on the skin and evolving slowly.
You're saying if Daniel bought a frankincense perfume oil and it smelled great on him, Hannah might have a completely different experience with the same oil.
Which might be part of why Hannah wasn't enthusiastic about the frankincense deodorant situation. What smells soulful and deep to Daniel might smell like a church basement to someone else.
Or she just didn't want her husband smelling like an ancient Temple ritual every morning. That's a reasonable position.
It's a very reasonable position. And Daniel seems to have accepted it with good humor, which is the right approach. But the perfume oils survived the culling, which suggests they're more subtle or more acceptable.
Or he's just been more strategic about application. Let's talk about application technique, actually. Daniel mentioned that perfume oils last well on the skin. Is there a right way to apply them?
The traditional method is to dab a small amount on pulse points — wrists, behind the ears, the crook of the elbow, behind the knees. The pulse points generate heat, which helps diffuse the fragrance. Some people also apply to the chest or the back of the neck. The key is not to rub it in aggressively, which can break down the fragrance molecules. Just dab and let it absorb.
Because there's no alcohol, you're not going to damage clothing the way a spray cologne might.
Actually, that's a common misconception. Perfume oils can stain clothing because they're, well, oil. You want to apply them to skin and let them absorb for a minute before getting dressed. Some lighter oils absorb quickly and don't stain, but darker oils — especially oud oils and aged attars — can leave marks on light-colored fabrics.
Good to know. So the downside of longevity is you might ruin a white shirt.
Worth being careful about. But the longevity really is remarkable. A good attar can still be detectable on skin after a shower. The scent gets into your skin's oil layer and hangs on.
Let's circle back to frankincense as a cosmetic more broadly. Daniel mentioned he found body sprays and washing powder. What other forms does frankincense show up in?
You can find frankincense in everything from soap to face cream to beard oil. There's a whole natural skincare segment that uses frankincense essential oil for its purported anti-aging and anti-inflammatory benefits. Frankincense hydrosol — the water left over after steam-distilling the essential oil — is used as a facial toner. The boswellic acids I mentioned earlier are being studied for their effects on skin health, particularly for reducing the appearance of fine lines and sun damage.
Is there actual evidence for that or is it mostly marketing?
There's some evidence. Boswellic acids have demonstrated anti-inflammatory effects in lab studies. They inhibit something called five-lipoxygenase, an enzyme involved in inflammation. There are also studies suggesting they may help with collagen production and skin elasticity. But a lot of the skincare claims are extrapolated from preliminary research. It's not like there have been large double-blind clinical trials on frankincense face cream.
It's in that zone of plausible benefit, limited proof.
Same category as a lot of botanical skincare ingredients. It probably does something, especially for inflammation, but the anti-aging claims are ahead of the evidence.
Daniel's interest seems less about the skincare angle and more about the sensory experience. He described frankincense as a "very soulful fragrance, deep in a way that's hard to describe." That's the reaction of someone connecting with the material on an aesthetic level, not someone treating a skin condition.
That's really what the perfume oil world is about. It's about the experience of wearing something that evolves slowly on your skin, that you catch wafts of throughout the day, that feels personal rather than projected. The fact that it connects to ancient traditions and to the very texts Daniel reads weekly — that adds a layer of meaning.
There's something interesting about the idea of phases too, which is where Daniel started. He frames his frankincense obsession as one of many phases, something his ADHD brain latched onto for a while and then moved past. But the perfume oils stuck. Why do you think that one element persisted?
I think because perfume oils are genuinely useful in a way that burning resin in your office isn't. You can incorporate them into a daily routine. They're portable, they're socially acceptable in most contexts, they don't trigger asthma, and they don't fumigate your entire living space. The frankincense resin was a phase because it was impractical. The perfume oils became a habit because they solved the problem the phase was trying to solve — connecting with that ancient fragrance tradition — in a way that actually worked.
That's a good framework for evaluating phases generally. The ones that solve a real problem stick. The ones that are just an interesting experience fade.
And Daniel seems to have enough self-awareness to recognize that pattern in himself. He mentioned that his phases have become more stable with ADHD treatment. But even within the rapid cycling, he found something of lasting value.
The other thing that struck me about Daniel's prompt is how he describes the process of making agentic AI work — challenging, fun, buggy, fulfilling when it finally clicks. There's a parallel to the frankincense journey. He tried the obvious approach, it didn't work, he iterated, he found a better solution, and the part that worked became a permanent part of his life.
That's a very Corn observation.
I have my moments.
You're right. The process of enthusiastic exploration, hitting practical constraints, pivoting, and finding the durable core — that's the same pattern in both domains. And it's probably not a coincidence that someone who finds that process fulfilling in AI also finds it fulfilling in fragrance.
Let's talk about the Middle Eastern perfume oil tradition more specifically, because Daniel mentioned attars and said they're still popular in the East. What makes the Middle Eastern approach to perfume oils distinctive?
A few things. One is the centrality of oud. In Gulf Arab culture particularly, oud oil is the pinnacle of perfumery. People have personal collections of oud oils that they've acquired over years, and they'll apply them before social gatherings, for Friday prayers, for weddings. The application is often quite generous — it's not a tiny dab behind the ears, it's applied to the beard, the hair, the clothing, the hands. It's meant to be smelled. But it's also meant to be complex and evolving. An expensive oud oil can have dozens of discernible facets — woody, animalic, fruity, smoky, leathery, sometimes even blue-cheese-like notes that sound terrible in description but are prized by connoisseurs.
Frankincense fits into this tradition how?
Frankincense — luban in Arabic — is hugely important. It's burned as incense in homes, used to scent clothing, and worn as perfume oil. In Oman particularly, frankincense is a point of national pride. The southern region of Dhofar produces some of the finest frankincense in the world, and Omani households burn it daily. They have special incense burners called mabkhara that they use to fragrance their homes and even their clothes — you hold your garment over the incense smoke and it absorbs the fragrance.
Daniel's office fumigation wasn't that far off from a traditional practice. He just didn't have the ventilation figured out.
Or the asthma accommodation. But yes, the impulse was culturally authentic. And the move to perfume oils is also authentic — the Middle Eastern perfume oil tradition uses frankincense extensively, often in combination with other resins like myrrh and labdanum, with woods like sandalwood and oud, and with florals like rose and jasmine.
There's something interesting about the cultural geography here. Perfume oils remained dominant in the Middle East and South Asia while the West shifted to alcohol-based sprays. Why did that divergence happen?
Partly it's about the development of the modern fragrance industry. The alcohol-based spray cologne as we know it really took off in the early twentieth century with the rise of French perfume houses — Guerlain, Chanel, Coty. They were using new synthetic aroma molecules that dissolved better in alcohol, and the spray format allowed for the kind of big, diffusive fragrances that were fashionable at the time. The Middle East and South Asia had their own established traditions that didn't need to adopt the Western model. And there's also the Islamic context — alcohol is haram for many Muslims, so alcohol-based perfumes were religiously problematic. Oil-based fragrances avoided that issue entirely.
What about cost? Is perfume oil more or less expensive than spray cologne for an equivalent quality?
It depends entirely on materials. A simple jasmine attar made with real jasmine flowers, distilled into sandalwood oil, can be quite affordable — maybe thirty or forty dollars for a small bottle. But an aged oud oil from a specific region, distilled by a renowned master, can run into the thousands. I've seen small vials of high-end oud oil priced at five thousand dollars or more. The most expensive perfume oils make niche Western fragrances look cheap.
That's partly scarcity, right? Wild agarwood is rare.
Agarwood forms when Aquilaria trees are infected with a specific type of mold. The tree produces a dark, fragrant resin in response. Wild agarwood has been so heavily harvested that Aquilaria species are now CITES-listed as potentially threatened. Most oud oil today comes from cultivated trees that are deliberately inoculated with the mold, but wild oud from old-growth trees commands astronomical prices.
Frankincense isn't quite as scarce, is it?
Not yet, but there are concerns. Boswellia trees are slow-growing and the resin harvesting can damage the trees if not done carefully. There have been reports of declining Boswellia populations in parts of Africa and Arabia due to overharvesting, land-use changes, and climate stress. Some researchers have warned that frankincense production could decline by fifty percent or more in the coming decades if sustainable harvesting practices aren't adopted.
The thing Daniel discovered in the old city of Jerusalem might not be as accessible to future enthusiasts.
There's a conservation angle to frankincense that most people don't think about. The resin seems like this ancient, eternal thing, but the trees that produce it are vulnerable.
That makes the perfume oil connection even more interesting. If you're using frankincense in an oil-based perfume, you're using very small amounts — a few drops of essential oil in a bottle that might last months or years. It's a much more efficient use of the material than burning chunks of resin.
A little frankincense essential oil goes a long way in perfume. It's a more sustainable way to enjoy the material than burning it, which literally consumes it in minutes.
Daniel might have stumbled onto the environmentally responsible approach by accident.
Which is very on-brand for Daniel.
Let's talk about the practical side for someone who might want to explore this. If a listener hears this and thinks, I want to try a perfume oil — maybe something with frankincense, maybe something else — where do they start?
The easiest entry point is probably a sample set from a reputable house. If you're interested in traditional attars, there are vendors who specialize in Indian attars and will sell small sample vials. If you want something more contemporary, the indie perfume oil community on platforms like Etsy has countless options. The key is to start small and try things on your skin.
If you want to experience frankincense in oil form, look for a frankincense essential oil or absolute from a good supplier, and you can wear it directly — just a tiny drop on the wrist. It's intense, so go easy. Or look for perfume oils that list frankincense as a prominent note. Many indie houses have frankincense-focused blends. There's one called "Holy Terror" that's frankincense, myrrh, and sandalwood — basically a wearable incense experience.
That sounds like exactly what Daniel was going for.
And for someone who wants the full Middle Eastern experience, there are houses like Amouage, which is an Omani luxury brand that uses frankincense extensively. Their fragrances are alcohol-based sprays, but they also do oil formats. Amouage was actually founded by the Sultan of Oman to showcase Omani perfumery traditions, particularly frankincense.
That's a government-backed fragrance initiative. I respect that level of commitment to a national resource.
It's impressive. Amouage fragrances are made with some of the highest-quality frankincense in the world, and they've become a globally respected luxury house. Their fragrance "Interlude" has a famous frankincense note that's been described as chaotic and beautiful.
Between the indie makers on Etsy, the traditional Indian attar houses, and the Middle Eastern luxury brands, there's actually a lot of range in this world. It's not just a niche curiosity.
It's a multi-billion dollar global industry that most Western consumers don't even know exists. The attar market in India alone is enormous. The oud market in the Gulf is even bigger. And it's all oil-based perfumery, operating on completely different principles from the spray cologne most people are familiar with.
Which brings us back to Daniel's friend Marcus and his observation about the ancient world. The thing that strikes me is how much of this is still alive. This isn't a historical reenactment. People are still making perfume oils the way they were made two thousand years ago, still using the same materials, still having the same debates about quality and sourcing. The tradition never died.
That's what makes it so compelling. When Daniel picks up a bottle of frankincense perfume oil, he's not doing something that would be unrecognizable to someone from the Second Temple period. The materials might be more refined, the supply chain more global, but the fundamental experience — dabbing fragrant oil on your skin, catching the scent throughout the day — that's unchanged.
There's something grounding about that. In a world of AI and vector databases and agentic systems — all the things Daniel works with professionally — there's value in a sensory experience that connects you to something ancient and tangible.
I think that's exactly what Daniel found. He started with a text, got curious about a material mentioned in that text, and followed his curiosity into a whole world of sensory experience, community, history, and craft. The fact that it also smells good is almost secondary.
The fact that Hannah vetoed the deodorant is also part of the story. Not every phase survives contact with other people's noses.
A valuable lesson in fragrance generally. What you wear affects the people around you. Part of being a considerate fragrance wearer is understanding that.
And now: Hilbert's daily fun fact.
Hilbert: The national animal of Scotland is the unicorn. It has been since the twelve hundreds, when it first appeared on the Scottish royal coat of arms. Scotland is one of the few countries whose national animal does not actually exist.
That explains a lot about Scotland.
This has been My Weird Prompts. If you enjoyed this episode, you can find more at myweirdprompts.I'm Herman Poppleberry.
I'm Corn. Thanks for listening.
