It was another Oeno-archaeological mystery, the label on the bottle so faded and worn that it took awhile to determine its identity. Finally from a small readable section of what had been an import stamp, a date appeared, 2000, though the actual purchase had been made eight years later in Taiwan. Uncorking one of these grand old dames is a true exercise in zen, mindfulness in every twist of the wrist. It demands calm and patient work, an attempt at coaxing this old piece of bark from the narrow neck that had long been its home. There was promise in a definitive resistance at the start, but all at once there was a slip where the curled metal tip met decayed center. After a steady and gradual climb upwards, the cork suddenly broke off, as if impatient for freedom.
Resetting the corkscrew, I began yet again to pull, micrometre by micrometre. As the cork rose, what came with it was a small hiss, as if the contents of the bottle itself were longing for freedom. It struck me that what I was hearing was the sound of vintage air, twenty-three years old.
On the turntable: Nina Simone, "The Montreaux Years"
On the nighttable: Gary Snyder, "Back on the Fire"
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