Kindness sometimes leads to even greater tragedy

(Madohomu Mix)

Till Death - Barcelona / / My Understandings - Of Mice & Men / / Open Water - Blessthefall ft. Lights / / Summer’s Colour - Basement / / Give Me Back To The Sky - Teen Suicide / / What Sarah Said - Death Cab for Cutie / / Cover Me Up - Jason Isbell / / But - Dads / / Release My Soul - Guilty Crown OST / / Over and Over - Three Days Grace / / Weight of the World - Evanescence / / Tomorrow - Daughter / / Get Up - Barcelona / / Hello - Evanescence

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Wine and Love

On today’s tour stop at Carly’s Book Reviews, I was asked about wine and love…

Carly: Wine and love. They go hand in hand. Both can be dry and bitter or full bodied and rich. What are your thoughts on this comparison and how does it play into your story?

Erin: I fear that I’m going to end up sounding like a pretentious wine snob if I’m not careful, but I’m going to do my level best to answer this. 

Here’s the thing about wine, especially so-called “big” wines, the reds that are designed to be opened after they have some age on them: they change. They grow. They evolve. They become something they don’t start out as. 

So do relationships, or at least the ones that are destined to last. 

Think of a bright white wine as being like a summer romance. It’s light and lovely, full of grass and flowers—but it’s short-lived. Sauvignon Blancs, Roussannes, Viogniers and the like are meant to be enjoyed young. You make them. You bottle them. You drink them. They don’t age well. They are bright, joyous, summery flings that you enjoy for one season, and then move on to the next vintage. 

But a big red—a Syrah, a Cabernet, a Malbec, a Meritage blend? These wines are meant to last, to age, to develop over time. Try to drink them right after bottling and you’ll have a wine that may be drinkable, but feels tight, wound up, uncomfortable in the glass and on the palate. But let it rest for a while, let nature do its thing with that wine, and in time, the wine’s edgy corners will smooth out. It will mellow. It will gain subtleties and nuance that it may have only hinted at in its youth. 

To savor the wine at its peak, you have to pay attention to it, and make sure to time its opening well. Left too long in the bottle, wine can be compromised by outside influences and spoil, turning the wine to vinegar. 

In Sotto Voce, Greg and Tom start out feeling a bit like one of those summery white wines. There’s an undeniable spark—and a date stamp on the time they have together. 

And though I prefer to compare their relationship to the growing seasons in the vineyard, they are much like that big, complex red wine that’s meant to improve with time. Outside influences could have soured their relationship, but it becomes clear that they have something that’s meant to reveal itself over time, rather than simply unravel. 

The moment they begin to pay attention to the complexities and the potential of what they have together, it becomes clear they have a relationship that’s meant to get better with time.

 

〔 d e s p e r a t i o n。〕

     there wouldn’t be anyone to help him. none at all; none knew him nor cared enough to extend their hand towards him, guide him home maybe? home where his mother would treat the bleeding wounds and kiss his forehead as if he was still a small child that scraped his knee instead, not a man whose wings got ripped. october, 2010. he still looked around the age of twenty one, tall with dark hair and eyes as darker as winter’s cold nights where stars could barely be seen on the night sky. he was shirtless, but freezing was not the problem. the problem was the pain, the unbearable pain that left him crying his eyes out on the cold ground.

     he tried to wrap his arms around himself, but couldn’t move, no. back arched as the wind blew against his open wounds from where blood was falling as if it was some sort of cascade- the summer’s light making the water orange, but this was crimson. fingers were covered in blood and now he took in a deep breath, screaming as he tried to get up, only barely. if he could crawl somewhere safe before he lost more blood, that would be amazing. it was dark, and his vision was blurred by the hot and big tears falling from his eyes.

     Patch tried. he tried to move, his fingers were digging into the ground but no, all he managed to do was flip over and lie on his stomach. the stones were uncomfortable against his abdomen, some even cutting into the soft flesh of it. he was a crying and screaming mess, fists hitting the ground.

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     was this how desperation felt? to know that there wouldn’t be anyone to save you from this, to make the pain cease or stop? to know that you won’t feel someone’s soft touch as they tried to calm you down? to know that none.. cared? he felt hopeless, there was nothing left to do apart from accepting his fate— apart from admitting defeat. temples rested on the ground and he took in deep breaths, crimson falling over his shoulders as his chest heaved. the night was silent, comforting even. could he die from blood loss? he’d have to find out, sooner or later.

     Patch gave up fighting, it was useless. if anything, moving was a bad idea, he’d only hurt himself more. there was no hope left for him, he doubted anyone would come around soon enough or if they would, they’d get this beautiful image of an angel whose wings got ripped as a morning gift.
sleep, sleep… comforting, dark sleep. he needed it. Patch was exhausted, this would help indeed.. sleep was what he needed..

          so he closed his eyes as tears kept falling down and fell asleep.

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