First off, the semantics of the stuff: rosé wine is made to "bleed" as it's being vinified, while red wine needs to "breathe" once it's opened. White wine seems to "fall off a cliff" when it reaches the end of its life.
What's more, let's say I take a six-bottle case of Zaleo Tempranillo that was bottled on the same day and placed in its case at the same time. On opening the bottles, I'll find that every single one has developed in a slightly different way, as if they've got a sole set of genes but different upbringings.
Wine is alive! That's why I wrote Tasting Notes, to let it speak for itself, all in implicit contrast with the juxtaposed blurb that usually accompanies the "product".
All the Naked Daughters, Anna Kisby, (Against the Grain Poetry Press 2017), £5. This beautifully produced pamphlet with its elegant cover – the first from ...