Far, far away, a vague smell. As clean and clear as mountain stream water or the pealing of church bells against a cerulean blue sky. Lusciously fresh and vaguely reminiscent of wood--if wood can register as contemporary--Ether Oxyde slowly dawns on our collective consciousness. Slowly (and pleasingly) it begins to sear, a light growing brighter and brighter until we must momentarily shield our eyes and await the landing of this celestial energy. An unsettling 'ether accord' informs our sense that the thing confronting us is not entirely human, but a gentle steam (ambroxan and iso E-super) seeps from its form which makes us oddly inclined to recognize a living-breathing function in the foreign. Ether Oxyde seems, somewhat surprisingly, to be emanating not only breathe, but love. Like a hot exhale into the coldest air, this refreshing scent reminds us of survival and rebirth. '...And if peace had a smell?', she asked me. I answered, 'It might be like this.'