wiNe, tHe cOLoUr oF yOuR hEaRt

dear jess,

You smile as you think about your fascination of drinking that shimmering glass of red wine, with harry connick jr. in the background, the rain tapping gently on the window, you just had a warm bath, not shower, a bath, one that was foamy and relaxing. You bring the glass closer to your lips, smell it, and give it a slight twist, letting the wine 'breath.' The first touch of red gold on your lips is satisfactory, not too bitter, and not too sweet. It slides down your throat, and the warmth tingles the throat and the soul. That was the last bit you had. The one you saved for a special occasion or simply just to be selfish. He told you it was a speacial blend, made from four different grapes, and can't be bought here. You curse a little, knowing that that was the last time you'd appreciate that refiness on your lips, from this specific brand.

Then in your old fashion manner of being melancholic you start to think about the process that took just to give you that small moment of pleasure. The four types of grapes, which only purpose in life was to give you that intoxicating satisfaction.

Then you think about yourself, sitting down all alone in the couch listening to the rain tap, and you can't help but to wonder the lifelong purpose of the pleasures you might remotely bring into other peoples lives.

Your work, was that your purpose in life? or just distraction? Your loves, your passions, your "unselfish" time investing into other people's lives, your studies, your strives, your good fights for what you believed in, your work outs at the gym, your habitual movie watching, your gleam at buying new jewellry, your fantastic race car driving habits, you trying to make others happy when you're aching inside, you making a mark in the world so it remembers you.. all distractions?

They're very good ones, if they are, because with all these distractions you tend to forget your purpose, but then again, you dont really know what your purpose is in this life do you? So in the meanwhile, you might as well pile up on distractions? Perhaps until the harvest comes, and the grapes are picked, and you're squeezed into wine, where somewhere, somebody will reflect on their own purposes in life.

Everyone seems to have a clear idea of how other people should lead their lives, but none about his or her own. (The Alchemist, Paulo Coehlo)

yours sippingly,
jess