Grape

When he opens his eyes, Zack is in the village, lying on the old iron bed at the window. The image is so strong he believes he is again five or six years old. The air, the freshness, the smell, the light, the touch of the cover on his skin – all exactly as he remembered. When he walks out to the veranda the images are mixed. He now sees grapes, – black, juicy, a bit savory, – he remembers those very well.

— Odessaa, – His grandpa commenting on the type of the grapes. Branches go up to the roof on the steel strings set for them. Those grapes he loves.

Later, grapes that he loves most are Tita, – bigger juicier and delicious…

Zack is back on the veranda of his own. The thoughts of the childhood grapes are gone. He has bitter memories about grapes that defined most of his life, with his father’s alcohol abuse… Yeah, grapes, there, how we can take something so pure and make something as fierce, deadly and ugly as alcohol… 

Wine?.. He knows everything about it. He and Mum had so much pain because of Dad’s alcohol love… He hates wine… He hates alcohol…

All the satyrs of Dionysus, all the religious gatherings and rituals, – all with a mixture of wine – to go wild, to get toxic, to stress off and bring people more and more under the influence… He hates the cult of wine… With its evil nature of creeping into us and not letting us control anything anymore…

“Cradle of wine”, – he hates countries boasting with wine traditions… He could have been a moderate consumer, with occasional sipping of a cocktail or a glass of wine, – he does that, yes – but he remembers what wine really is – he know it too well…

Has he not abused it himself? Of course! He has been drunk and unconscious and aggressive and all the things that come with wine…

It’s an abyss – a transformation leading to an inevitable downfall, – that’s what it is…

But it’s not the grapes. The grapes are there to shine, be juicy, be delicious, – it’s aimed at good, and we make something very different out of it…

He misses nature, animals, the forms, the shapes, the smell, the plants, – all in their forms, without being processed into something more convenient – without creating wine from the grapes; without putting animals in cages and plants into pots – there, he wants what it was like before humans… He misses nature without creatures that made it all transformed into something as ugly as block of apartments, or something as disgusting as the smell of the grass and bushes cut with the lawn mowers, cutters, – the disgusting smell of life cut with the iron and diesel…

That’s what he feels now… The wind has brought to the veranda the smell of freshly cut grass mixed with the small of an exhaust pipe; burning, choking…

Zack is annoyed.

Just like wine transforming, just like grape is processed, so are the feelings, emotions, associations. He is tired of the toxicity – he seeks something pure, simple – thoughts included – simple, easy, free…

Zack smiles. He is happy that he can dig down to those pure feelings and thoughts inside him. That means he is not processed, not consumed, not made into wine…

Zack smiles, he fancies the grapes now…