Beautiful words of the French language always fall into disuse. In dictionaries. These words, which shine in their last rays before disappearing, often carry the adjective "old" or, at best, "literary". The word "fragrance" is part of all these words endangered. With the title "Secret fragrances" I hope to still keep the thread of his life under fragrances, perfumes sweet. Juliette, a singer who made up most often in both texts and music of his songs, celebrated in one of them, perfumes, traces of the presence of a beloved woman or perhaps the man she loves, no one knows. But it is rather the scent of women that are well described. Of course it also summons other flavors of childhood, "the smell of roudoudou", "the grandmother jams", "orange Christmas," "girls and boys vanilla lemon "But suddenly other odors are mentioned, they most secret, blue body pillow odor:. The song ends with an invitation to enjoy life while there is still time: "Before the time ruler and his cruel teasing n'emportent your love or mine to other lands or other beds, I want to keep to die, you forgot, on the ruins of our desires, all your soul on the pillow. " One can die of love and Juliet, celebrating the secret fragrances of its object of love, we can prove. But there is another word in the register of those smells that is, too, a little obsolete, and instead of fragrances, is about odors is that of "pestilence" . Once, during epidemics of plague, people put themselves to protect themselves noses wigs. Plague, pestilence that has kept this registry nose, it smells putrid. It is a word that Lacan had used about the analyst. He had indeed found the lovely metaphor that "the analyst is a wisp" to oppose the Fiat Lux, "and there was light" of creation of the world. "A wisp, says it illuminates anything, it usually comes out well in any pestilence. " The wisp is a result of the decomposition of organic matter. According to tradition he frightened passers-by who dared to cross the cemeteries at night because they saw it as an event beyond the grave, that of the soul of the dead. Are these partial drives that have staked his childhood, these pestilences instinctual, the analyst finds the path of his desire, first, then the analyst's desire, a desire to "warned" about " the human condition "?. This blog, written by David and Liliane Berton Fainsilber will be above all an invitation to the discovery of psychoanalysis. As a counterpoint to the black book, I propose the blue body pillow book of psychoanalysis, blue body pillow as the sky through the branches of olive. . . .