An aspiring Bukowski from London: When Wine becomes a vortex and sucks you in.

I don't want to write how, in which glasses or with which food one may taste wine, not today. But of the paradigms that, for some, wine encloses. Think of the myth of immortality - some wines already in bottles could outlive you. If it was you that made them, in that liquid there is time stolen from your farewell, and anyway, you would be swallowing a portion of afterlife. The appeal of how it will improve after 30 or 40 years is a wonderful consolation.
A light inebriation? Not drunkenness, but that state of hyperconsciousness where maybe just for a slight moment, that mystery that was complicating your night's rest, becomes limpid, simple, easy; to return later as mysterious as it had been before. This  light, fertile, socializing state has made wine into our mystic tot, pulling us to the transcendental, blood of Christ or Sprit of Baccus, pagan or Holy as you wish.
Here examples could be plenty, and we'll return to others the day my pen decides to run more fluidly. Wine is capable of such prodigies, but careful, one needs a culture, an exercise, a study, then yes, will our soul  move like a torrent. Then it hushes and exactly there wine becomes a vortex and it swallows us. But if this scares you, drink a cup without these concerns; nought will happen..or by chance all will be unveiled to you.