Drinking is refused. Alcoholism is not for me. But an open bottle of red wine has saved my life this year. In a frosty winter it warmed me and dragged me out of the end's embrace, when I sacrificed it to shadows of death. In a tangled love relationship it hints at a mess I may accidentally create - the arms of a loving person aren't only caressing, but also thorny and will hurt you deliberately. I saw this the other night through a sobering glass of Concha y Toro.
