Wine is in all of my moments. If I try to refrain, it’s permissively insane. It insists. IT’s there to tell me that I can keep writing, that I can have my own thoughts, that I deserve my own moments. Wine yells to me to ignore any nay-saying front, any negative climate or storm approaching. run the other way. That doesn’t make you a coward. That means you’re measured. Wine is 10:37p, where I am now, and what I’m thinking, how I know I should be in be but I want to send more moments with here. Wine is freedom and reality, is telling, is pursuit and purpose, moments, music— me.