The perfect glass of wine
First, run away from your homeland on a romantic whim; be sure there’s no money in the bank and nothing legal in your status. Spend years doing everything wrong, berate and question yourself often. Arrive at no satisfactory conclusions.
Next, get to a point where you have no more homeland; the one you left too far and unresolved, the new one doesn’t get your jokes.
As this simmers gently, dig in your heels, defy protocol and master the tangible.
Just as you’ve begun to get a grip on things, to lull in your ease at last, throw it in the dumpster and start from scratch.
Rinse, repeat. Ad nauseum.
Allow years to go by. Smoulder. Appear suitably baffled by the passing of time.
Then sit out on a stone terrace with a soft wind and evening sunlight dwelling on your skin. Sit next to a love you thought you’d never find. Watch your hand wrapping around the glass where abstract paintings are hanging upside down in pale ivresse. Look him in the eyes, smile shyly cause you just can’t help it, and say… cheers.
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