Confident, woody and spicy. Dusk cloaks the city in shadow as you wander the ancient streets. A whisper of myrrh drifts past, rich and resinous, mingling with the dark allure of oud wafting from houses in the distance. You pause before a weathered statue, its spear slicing the moonlight. Time blurs. You're no longer just a passerby, but part of the myth.

A song: Edge Of Saturday Night by Kylie and The Blessed Madonna
An item of clothing: Leather trousers
A colour: Fire orange
A food: Chocolate balsamic Pots De Creme