The Sounds, Smells and Sights in Your Private Heaven/Hell.

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On the accursed Barry Manilow thread, I believe it was our dear osso, who shared that Barry would be featured in her private Hell's soundtrack.

So, for our enjoyment, please list the sounds, smells, sights and any other sensory elements of your Heaven, and or Hell.

My Hell--
Sound: Manilow's greatest hits.
Sights: Carnage, children suffering.
Smell: Spinach cooking
Touch: Never-ending jellyfish stings.

Heaven--
Sound: Clannad's ethereal vocalist's haunting voice.
Sight: A foggy morning tableau in a thick, wild forest clearing. Occasional wildlife, passing through.
Smell: Hawaiian Tropic suntan lotion.
Touch: Professional massage.

<Heaven is not so distant. Smile

)

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I love this topic sophia!!! Very thought provoking...

My heaven would include:

Being surrounded by the people and pets I love.
Back massage.
The sound of gentle rain/surf.
Eternal orgasms.
The smell of Peace roses.
An incredible lightness of being.

My hell would include:

Being totally alone in utter darkness.
Being unbearbly cold.
The smell of human hair burning.
Separated from God.
Being in physical and emotional pain.
Becoming the very things I hate.

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I thought heaven was when;

The police were English,
The cooks were French,
The bankers are Swiss,
ans the lovers were Italian.

Hell is when:

The police are French,
The lovers are Swiss
The bankers are Italian,
and the cooks are English.

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Addendum to Hell:

The rabbits are South Australian,
and the voice coaches are New Zealanders.

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Heaven smells like blood and cotton candy, sounds like children screaming, and looks like the inside of a meat locker.

Hell sounds like any emo band, looks like Ted Nugent's smile after shooting a deer in the neck with a crossbow, and smells like tires.

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English food: the taste of Satan's punishment!

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Heaven: Sounds, sights, smells always different.

Hell: Sounds, sights, smells always the same.

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Hey; English food is not that bad... (when English cooks imitate the French.)

Heaven:

A gigantic library-- with no faux-literature or books on things such as aviation or rugby-- with the most comfortable reclining chairs on which one can lie without looking like a fool... which are, additionally, good for one's back and massage it, if that option is selected.

The library would be in the middle of a gigantic set of moors in the middle of nowhere, near a huge, thrashing sea. It would never be too hot, and there would often be strong wind and hail blowing about the place, but not so violently as to be unpleasant. It would be in the middle of nowhere, so no beastly children or thugs could get there; the only people who would know where it was would be friends. There would be a top-notch theatre there, and one could commission films or books on anything. Everyone would wear either suits or long, classical, white gowns. Favourite old teachers or professors would be there, to ensure that casual learning never stopped. The conversation would always be witty but never élitist, and Heaven would take in all sorts of new talent who might otherwise be left disgregarded.

The smell would be one of wet grass and wildflowers, gently wafting as not to overpower.

Hell would be a scorching beauty salon in the middle of Suburbian Birmingham, listening to trashy wifely wives compete over who is the one who's spent most on 'beautifying' themselves. All books and writing-paper would be immediately disgarded, and anyone who wanted free thought would be punished severely. The smell would be of excrement and nail varnish. One would have to be subjected to pornography shoots and comply to others' will. Manufactured love songs would play on all day on the radio, which would be turned to its top volume.

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Sofia serving breakfast in bed to me, supple left breast and all.

That Craven isn't good enuff for you honey!!

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drÃ²m_et_rÃªve wrote:

Hey; English food is not that bad... (when English cooks imitate the French.)

http://www.channel4.com/life/microsites/N/nigella/images/updatedimages/forever/promo1.jpg

Yum yum!!

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Stillwater--
I would bring *both* breasts for you, dear.
Smile

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Oooooooooooooooooooooooooooohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!

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Heaven for me would be a home I could nest in. A garden to dig in. A studio to paint in. All my favorite books and the ones I intend to read at the ready. Lots of music and a great sound system.

I am already in Hell - it is called Dallas, Texas.

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DROM--

Yours was exquisite!

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Heaven:

Sound: New age
Sight: The sky and the sea from a high shore
Smell: the scents of the sea and the forest mix
Touch: the breeze, a caress

(now that I come to think about it, perhaps I am at Mali Losinj, Croatia, but with a different person)

Hell:

Sound: total silence, broken only every now and then by human shrieks and car alarms
Sight: a continous blinding light; I don't become blind, though.
Smell: garlic
Touch: my mouth is full of sand/ashes

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