Needed to film an episode when I arrived back at the castle. After a shift in the Room, talking and sipping is most optimal, necessary. Pinot has become an increasingly integral note in my makeup. What this truly embodies, no idea. But that’s the fun of the vinoLit life, seeing what’s to transpire. True literature lacks predictability, is contra-template.
My destination in the future near, positive where I wish it to be. The land of Zins. How does that co-mingle with my Pinot proclivity? Uh, don’t know. One could say, “That doesn’t make sense, loving Pinot and wanting to be in a Zin house.”
I retort, “I’m not trying to make sense. I don’t want to.”
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