The wine, calling me. To lines abandoned, desolated. Today, while in the Room. Nothing not trapped. Not matter how frenzied the herd unfolds, I scribble. Finding a new connection with St. Francis’ magnetic Malbec. I reflect within the day prior’s tastes. Impossible for any Human not to relish in ravishing oenological revelations. It’s been 14 hours, about, since the last time the dark elixir connected with these ignoble lips. Knotted, dazed, with belated vigor. Still.
In one hour earlier this day. Impatient ink in this pen’s shell bubbles, for opportunity. Me, meager passenger. Awed, joyous, wishing I took notes to amply retain a savory yesterday. Anyway, cheers!