Ashes and Dirt

It tastes old, this wine. It tastes senescent. Like it’s the oldest wine that ever was. Like ashes. Like something burnt out, long ago.

It’s posthumous wine, for posthumous drinkers.


Last wine, from the last harvest. From the last vines. From the last vineyard.
Ingest the poison. Drink it more deeply than anyone. Drink it into your depths.

And then what?


I can taste ashes. I taste earth. Thick, heavy earth. With a side order of ashes.