Ermione is the perfume of spiritual joy. Its natural exhilaration embraces everything, captured perfectly in the rustle of the gurgling spring. It is a suspended atmosphere, a precise musical note that seems to become airborne while trickling forth. It is tremulous rain, a graceful and noble moisture, a whisper of silk. Ermione is the temple of the eternalness of movement. It is the mysterious that becomes simple, the perfect time for sentimental accords. It is the divine side of the human, the interior dimension that flows into the present. Life is fresh and fragrant.