I don’t know. I shouldn’t be blogging this time of night. I’m fairly clear-headed. The end of a longish work week. No alcohol, just some Turkish delivery at work and a couple Mallomars.
Maybe I’m like my mother, she’s never satisfied. If you aren’t growing as an artist, if you aren’t busting your ass, are you letting yourself die?
Each day makes the grape different so wine is always changing. If we aren’t aware, we don’t notice how we change.