In one of the alleys of the Turkish city of Konya, where the mountains embrace the morning mist, there was a small perfumery, with bags of saffron, sticks of oud, and balls of incense hanging at its door. The shop was not striking from the outside, but it pulsed with another world, accessible only to those who had intentionally lost their way.
A strange man, with no clear name, passed by there without intention. He was drawn by a strange aroma — a blend of warm saffron, Turkish damask rose dripping with love, dried mandarin peel, and incense rising like an ancient prayer from the ashes of rituals.
From a nearby popular café, the scent of roasted coffee crept in, meeting the fragrance in the air... and the movement of the world changed.
The man stopped, then closed his eyes. In that moment, he was not in the market... but in the presence of spiritual intoxication. His body was still, but his soul began to spin.
As if time had dissolved, and as if Rumi had returned, not dancing this time to the sound of mourning... but to the symphony of saffron, coffee, and rose.
And from that moment, the fragrance of the "Dance of the soul" was born.