Book fair event. 
Same scent as dead and breakfast products.
In a sleepy little attic café that only appears under a silver moon, the scent of warm waffles drifts through the air — soft, golden, and dusted with stardust sugar. Stacks of old storybooks sit open on the tables, their pages glowing faintly as they whisper tales to the night sky. You curl up by the window with a steaming mug and a plate of moonlit sweetness, the air thick with notes of vanilla, maple, pumpkin and dreams. Outside, the moon hums her lullaby, and every turn of the page feels like a soft step through a galaxy of wonder.
Light it when you crave that quiet, magical space between stories and starlight. 
🌌📚🧇