I drank the best Sake I ever tasted for the first time. I could see the colors. I could never see the wines he bought. They tasted like grape juice and that’s it. They were so obscure and carefully picked by him, I wanted to see them,I wanted to feel their organisms swim around in my mouth, bursting wounds like ancient war, clanking rusting swords, the fireflies, something, just dance for me like the sake did. It was always juice. I could get drunk and that’s the only reward from his wine.
Why did the 30$ sake give me so much?
A good wine is a strange formula, like all good things in life, you get to live it twice – first for you to try and second to give. For it to taste cinematically velvet you don’t have to know what you’re doing – I know how to taste, he knew how to verbalize taste ( and give me a condescing look when I the waitress didn’t engage in conversation with me after I told her “this sake tastes like the forest princesses get lost in” ( I can’t verbalize taste)), you have to use your second time to get her to come to you of her choosing, get an artist go towards someone that will never use his understanding of her as a means to attract her, because he knows that’s been used too many times. Nothing left to seduce with but the wine.
Anthropological Magical Realism 