Drinking red wine is a patient gift, rewarding the senses after a few slews. Life is a virtuous cavalcade of choices, winding paths and forked off bridled trots, life is a highway. 

How does life start to unwind, how does it start to break down to slowly reveal the final plot? The ending of a twisted, bunched up wad of memories, synapses and illusions? 

We are in the present now, sucking up everything around us. Hoping we are doing things right, wishing we could break outside our barriers but forever choosing to be encrypted within the world we created.