Pinot from Halleck, where I was today, now here a glass on desk. Needing time to self, no one around. NO ONE. Just me, dreams books, me traveling, no more covid… drink more, Pinot orders. Sip glass fast, trying to see new Road.. new time, new verses, people, taste new quiet chords.
Writing for me, wine speaking to me. Not looking at the goddamn phone or trying to figure out what’s wrong with email.
The wine’s drive and dote starting to be felt. I keep writing. Thinking more of wine and books, me writing and speaking as Ross does. Wine, the story, but more than that… reaching the AE story and reality.
One more glass, forgetting anything that infuses any toxic inch. Glass empty, but I can just fill it again. That’s it. Writing through a mood, wine talking to me – she wants me to do something. What.
Last bit of sentences for evening, Pinot in its singing steps… having me in a sole room, writing to wine and those vines I saw today at Ross’ property.
Wine again appearing and stepping toward me then away I follow in bling amour… equation.