Pages

Sunday, November 30, 2008

Terre Nere, Black Friday and Squash Blossoms

These two remind me of someone...

I was sitting on my mom’s couch watching the vintage movie Laura, starring the timeless beauty Gene Tierney, and drinking a glass of Etna Bianco, when it seemed like I slipped into one of my alternate universes. After all, here I am in Southern California, doing my National Guard duty for Dr J, who is slowly and happily getting sluiced into the vortex between Texas and Louisiana. It’s the least I could do for one of my fellow Californiano’s.

But something about the Terre Nere Bianco, a blend of Carricante, Inzolia, Grecanico and Cataratto that was such a perfect wine, I found myself gulping it. Mom had made some broccoli rabe with some fresh (and local) garlic we had gotten from the farmers market in Irvine. She also brought out some baby clams, a light meal, not quite the extravagance of last week. But that’s the wonderful thing about the wine trail; it doesn’t have to be a 5.8 on the Richter scale. A simple plate of clams, some greens and a wonderful glass of Sicilian white wine will do quite nicely, even here in So-Cal.

I have opted to shop for wine and vegetable during this Black Friday weekend. That, and catching a little sun and reflection off the Pacific Ocean. One of the perfect days on the West Coast, even while I am planning a late December sortie into Southwestern Louisiana in search of music, hot sauce and boudin. It all relates to the temperament and sensitivity of an Italian born in America from Calabresi and Siciliani.

I took my mom to a farmers market a mere 6 miles from her place. She was lamenting that at 94 she is running out of friends. You wouldn’t have known it as we walked outdoors in the cool sun. Everywhere we went, people talked to her like she was the mayor, a natural extrovert, which she disputes. Fresh squash blossoms and Satsuma oranges, I was walking in the corridors of my DNA’s childhood.

I am having a little quandary with this Sicilian winery, Terre Nere as it is called. I am wondering why I like these wines so much. And, are they spoofilated?

I’m pretty confident that, in the vineyard the grapes for these wines are proprio Siciliani, no homage to wine growing from other parts of the world. Mt Etna has its own matrix working, so that is the theme dominant in those parts.

In the winemaking process, what I am finding is one of two things, for both the white and the red wines. They have either been so deceptively well made according to some secret handshake with the wine devils. Or, they have been left to their own devices to be what they are as the wine gods have intended from day one. I truly hope it is that latter, as I am so stoked about that way these wines interface with my taste buds and seamlessly, without any hesitation, merge with my pleasure center. I am smitten, by the white, by the red, and if there is a rose, I am sure I will fall into its trance as well.

That’s all from Camp California for now. On to Paso!






Thursday, November 27, 2008

New Wine! New Love! New Era!

An anaphoric traipse

I was itching to open a bottle of the Novello. The first time we received Novello from Italy it must have been 1983. I filled up a truck with the whole lot of it and proceeded to drive around town, vowing not to stop until I had sold all of it. We were in Reagan’s era, interest rates were 16% and there were a lot more poor people than now. But I drove around to all the sorry little Italian spots and wrote out invoices on the spot. Finally I had 10 cases left and no one was buying. I rolled into a French Wine Bar, La Cave and asked Francois if he was interested. He must have taken pity on me. Or maybe he felt just a little pang of guilt for giving me so much grief over the container of 1978 Bordeaux that he pestered me over. I never got a penny of commission and him; well let’s say he did just fine. Anyway. The Frenchman bought more of the Italian Novello than any of the Italian places. C'est la vie.

Yesterday we popped a bottle or two and walked around the place hawking like we were selling the cure-all. Not too bad, very Merlot-esque, very fruity, a label my mother would love. What’s not to like?

Along the way I found some of the new Limoncello from Danny De Vito. By now most folks have heard about the romp De Vito and George Clooney had on The View, where they claimed they stayed up all night and drank Limoncello in preparation for their visit to the program. As it turned out, it might have been a set u p. Some enterprising merchant decided to capitalize on the notoriety and voila, Danny De Vito Limoncello was born.

One complaint. The gift pack has this kitschy ceramic decanter to go along with the product. Now anyone who has gone to the Amalfi coast knows there is a preponderance of mighty fine cermaiche. Vietri is one of the towns along the way. They even have a building for the ceramic industry, designed by none other than the famous Paolo Soleri. So it would only seem likely that some marketing genius would include the decanter as part of the product pull. Unfortunately the “ceramic” decanter is straight out of some factory in China. Mannaggia.

What else? Dr. J has been documenting last week's raiding of the wine closet. More to come? We took him and Ms. B to the Grassy knoll in commemoration of the 45th anniversary of the dreadful day in Dallas on November 22, 1963.

As if we haven’t taken every solemn and tragic event and turned it inside out a group pulls up dressed in masks like JFK, Jackie and the Secret Service detail, God knows what their deal was. Straight out of a Borges dream sequence, that’s my take. Bizarre. The young ones were Non Plussed. But hey, they’re still in the fog of love. Stay in the fog, kids. As long as you can.

Before then. what? Back from Austin last week I stopped in Taylor Texas to try the BBQ at the Taylor Café. Not bad, but Louie Mueller will be my next stop in Taylor. Something about a place making BBQ and if the tea tastes like it came out of a mix, makes the whole thing suspect. Like someone might be cutting corners. Anyway, I didn’t care much for the counter talk, very throwback to the era before the one we are stepping into.

I’m not much for derisive jokes about what the new President and the new First Lady are going to do with the Rose Garden, too g.d. cynical for me. I’m a believer. I want the world to be good.

Back in Dallas we took the young ones to the Twisted Root. Dr. J might mommy blog the meal, so I don’t want to take away from that post. But the sign in the men’s bathroom was my takeaway, so I be sharing it with you.

And that leaves me with my last crop in the garden and that would be the Pequins that we harvested over the weekend. The little peppers are hotter than a two-peckered dog in a city pound, as we say in Tejas. And that is my story.

Heading to California soon, to spend some time with my 94 year old mom. We are going to Paso Robles and Palm Desert. I’m also having dinner with my film-studio bud. Forget the book deal; let’s cut straight to the movie rights, eh?

And with my mom in tow, I’m sure I’ll be mustering up the Mother of all mommy blog posts in Old California. Stay tuned.





Sunday, November 23, 2008

Moths in Search of Their Fame

Vercelli ~ early 1980's

Where have all the great Italian wine experts gone? Over the weekend I have been thinking about who represents the best of expertise in Italian wine. Who is putting the Italian wines out in front? Who isn’t first looking at their margins or how much money or fame they can garner? Who isn’t devising a strategy that includes a book as a vehicle to propel their celebrity before those who still toil in the service of the vines?

Sure there are a lot of self-proclaimed experts who would like you and me to think they have remade Italian wine, and because of their singular efforts, all is well. Well, balderdash. Living large and taking a handsome fee to regale willing participants aboard a cruise ship of their love for Italian wines, I don’t buy it.

This all comes as a result of my procrastinating this afternoon over a shelf cleaning assignment. Instead of doing that and making room for more books I ran across an old Rolodex. A card popped out, and it was as if the person whose name was on that card was trying to reach out from the other side. The card belonged to Lou Iacucci, a crusty fellow from the 1980’s, who was a real expert in Italian wine at the time. He was brash and had a healthy ego, but he also worked the floor of his store and turned many a young person, myself included, on to Italian wine. He didn’t filter me through one of his handlers and then make a 10 minute appearance to regale me with fabricated sorties from his soon to be released best seller and definitive tome on Italian wine.

No, Lou could care less about that kind of crap. He was a noodler; he was always on the lookout to hook another fish on his line. It was through Lou that I was introduced to the wonderful dessert wine Torcolato, from a young Fausto Maculan. He also pressed bottles of Mastroberardino and Hauner upon me.

Toscana ~ Porchetta Stand 1980's

I had just returned from a three month stay in Italy and had worked the harvest. I was ripe for the picking. Lou was patient with me, and he encouraged me to develop my interest in Italian wine. Through Lou I felt that I could someday begin to approach his level of understanding about Italian wines. Yes, he was a shameless self-promoter, but he made space for the rest of us to gather some of the air in the room. Today, east coast or west, there are too many self-nominated authorities who don’t see the possibility of the rest of us wanting to contribute.

Armando de Rham and Luciano de Giacomi

Last spring in San Francisco, I sat next to a young lady, who was so proud that she had been nominated for membership in the Ordine dei Cavalieri del Tartufo e dei Vini di Alba. I mentioned to her how I knew the man who founded the order and gave her my card, suggesting to her that we stay in touch; you know, synergy and all that. She never returned an e-mail.

San Benedetto del Tronto, 1984, with IWG, Toto Rao,
Charles Petronella and Guy Stout, now a Master Sommelier

I met a fellow in New York, an up and coming Italian wine expert. In what has seemed like too many emails to remember, in which he has never responded, I have finally deleted his address from my virtual Rolodex. I hear from Lou Iacucci more often than I do from some of the young lions. They don't realize we were all young lions at one time.

Pietro Berutti of La Spinona in Barbaresco with Armando de Rham

A fellow in L.A., another self-declared master of all things in relation to wines Italian, was so rude the last time after I went into his store. It seems he couldn’t understand how one of “his best customers” would know me. One of his best customers, a film studio head, just “happened” to be a friend of mine from childhood. That’s how it was possible. But these arrogant young brats all want to think that they have the exclusivity on expertise. They don’t want anyone else playing in their sandbox. Ma va'.

New York has a couple more. I get a kick out of the ones who claim they don't remember the handful of times we met, had dinner, or sat on a panel somewhere. I’m not talking about the older ones with short or long term memory issues, but again the young lions who think the trail just started up when they got on it. They self-proclaim they’re a flame when they’re but moths in search of their fame.

I have a pile of books from one of my mentors, who like Lou, has passed on. His stories were like guideposts to me. I treasure those stories, for they truly set me on the course. And while I view all this from a serene eddy in flyover country, it offers me the perspective of one who can see all this from a distance. And that puts it into focus.

All those years Lou took the road from Firenze to Siena, were constant pilgrimages back to the source of the energy. One of those trips the wine gods called him back. He didn’t take one or two trips and write a book. He drove those roads till they wore down with his incessant search for this or that little producer.

Paolo de Rham, IWG and Franceso Guintini of Selvapiana in 1984

He didn’t conspire with importer B or C to prevent restaurateurs from having access to their wines. Sure, he wanted the lions share and he often got it. In those days not many folks clamored for wines like Montevertine or Selvapiana, let alone knew about it. But if they did, he didn’t do his damnedest to prevent others from taking pleasure in them. He didn’t hog the great wines just for the sake of a bunch more money.

So as I continue to roam about the world of wine, whether it be in Italy or America, I see that some of the most important things in my cellar are my relationships with people who will understand that we are not in competition with each other, we are only in competition with that person we can become. And that becoming is in a constant state of change and refinement. But the wines and the friends make the journey so much more rewarding than any pile of money or book deal could ever promise.

Piemonte ~ 1980's



Friday, November 21, 2008

Big Reds & Bubbas

Ace's Mamma Mia Weekend Blog Update

Arghh, it's drivin' me nuts

This week I've been in Austinopoli setting up future wine events and working around a few sale calls. John Roegnik and the Austin Wine Merchant folks hosted an Italian wine event, which gave me the opportunity to chat with the local wine lovers about some wines near and dear to me. Along the way I picked up a couple of wines to taste. French wines. When John asked the next day after I had had the wines (Chignard Fleurie Les Moriers 2006 and Domaine du Grand Montmirail Gigondas 2006) how I liked them, my answer, most innocently, was “John, I liked them so much when I was drinking them I didn’t remember to think they were French.” My way of saying they fit so well into what I like to drink (normally, but not always, Italian) I wasn’t distracted by where they came from and thoroughly enjoyed them with the family. And yes, Alice, we had them with a meatless meal of fresh ravioli with an impromptu pesto sauce (made by yours truly) and a whopping good salad by the young lion(Ace's son). Anna ( the S.O.'s daughter) prepared the ravioli and the bruschetta. So anyone who says you need to eat meat to enjoy red wine is deluded.

TLJ, Bubba'ing up for some Bubbly

Yesterday there was a Big Reds and Bubbles wine geek event at the Driskill Hotel. I was red wined out, so I went into the P.Diddy room to try some of the grand marques. We quickly renamed it the Tommy Lee Jones room, as SJ declined to show and TLJ did make a very low-key appearance, sans bodyguards. Austin is like that.

Some of the wines tasted this week:


• Donna Marzia Malvasia Bianca
• Cusumano Benuara


• Rampolla Chianti Classico 2004
• Giacosa Dolcetto 2007
• Mastroberardino Taurasi Radici 2004


• Chignard Fleurie Les Moriers 2006
• Domaine du Grand Montmirail Gigondas 2006


• Krug Brut
• Roederer Cristal 2002
• Dom Perignon 1999
• Dom Ruinart Blanc des Blancs
• Pommery Cuvee Louise 1998
• Veuve Clicquot La Grande Dame 1998

Wines on the docket for the weekend
• Jacques Selosse Initial
• Movia Puro
The cellar has just been reorganized, so...
• Mouton 1990
• Monfortino 1968
...and we shall see.

There you have it, my weekend mamma mia blog update.

One more thing. On the wine trail in Italy, after almost three years of posting, religiously, every Wednesday, Friday and Sunday, will soon go to every Thursday and Sunday. Three new projects will need time, so the only way to juggle it will be to post twice a week instead of three times. Most folks tell me they can’t keep up anyway.

I am starting a new project with some Asian producers of sake that I’d like to spend more time getting into. We have a new blog getting ready to blast open, of which I will be driving around the corporate universe. Imagine, getting paid to blog, after only three years. Anyway this is going to be huge and will cover wines and spirits from all over. More on that when we go online. It will have an easy to remember killer-name.

And lastly, more time to spend on book projects. So thanks to all who liked the three day a week posts. There are always the archives, if you really start having withdrawal symptoms (not).

Thanks for stopping by. Back on Sunday.

Not some of the wines enjoyed this week




Wednesday, November 19, 2008

The Trudge

La Faticaccia

Not good news from the front lines of the selling game. From what I am seeing, getting to the end of the year unscathed will be highly uncertain. We’re in the thick of things now, the deep trough, the slog through the sludge. Forget about keeping your mukluks sparkly clean, we’re going into the uncharted terroir of the slime. And it ain’t autochthonous. Or archetypical.

Funny how wine geeks love to talk about the feel of the soil. But when it gets soggy and tracks through the house, folks be singing another tune. Until the end of the year, the wine business is joining the rest of the economy in just getting through these days.

Small or large, importer or distributor, terroir-driven or industrial-fashioned, wines in these times, and selling them, have some particular challenges. Call it Stock and Awe.

First, the warehouses are full. As, I am sure, are the winery stockrooms. Just like the car lots and portside lots, space is running out. Meanwhile, folks aren’t running out to buy a car or a TV or the same bottle of wine.

In a short survey today, while driving from Dallas to Austin, I talked to importers. Some have a niche market of artisanly crafted wines and others have more commercially made offerings. In either case, marketers are telling me they are worried. Vintages are starting to back up.

Another concern is the Europeans. Since they perceive the dollar is stronger, and they are wrestling with inflation and recession, some camps think they will push for price increases to bolster their margins. That would be a huge mistake to entertain such fantasies. Not because they aren’t entitled to recoup margins after holding back their prices while the dollar was in the tank. Unfortunately now there are other things in a tailspin and to have any price points spiral up would be suicide. But I am sure many of those folks won’t be reading this blog. Those who do, would save time and lost sales and just bite the bullet for the next eighteen months.

Forget about the problems about Brunello. It will seem small by comparison to the next wave that is in motion. And a year or two from now let’s see if this seemingly pessimistic assessment will be prophetic or aimed in the wrong direction. I hope it is erroneous. In the interim, it will be crucial that the industry moves forward slowly. Introducing new items? This probably won’t be a good opportunity moment. Beefing up inventory? We’re going to see a new definition of just-in-time. It’ll probably be more like, when we run out, then we’ll order. After we sell some other product sitting, waiting for its day.

What will be telling? When, like the auto industry, folks decide instead of waiting around for a bail-out, they start selling wines, at reduced margins in order to just move product out to make room for the next round of offerings. Both products have a shelf life; cars rust, wines get tired.

I feel for a friend, who has recently taken the leap to import and self distribute, with containers just showing up. Unknown wines in a time when even things known have slowed down. This is not a good time to be exposed to the elements of the downturn. It’s going to take a lot of street beating, wearing out some of the old shoe leather. Forget about chasing maidens around the primordial ooze.

So the fancy Beatle boots of the dandy salesman, like the three martini lunch, is a sullied white elephant in today’s climate.

Maybe a drill sergeant’s pair of boots would be more suitable for the combat in the streets, Main or Wall. The situation on the ground calls for a little less speculation (and editing of the fantasy-dream sequence) and a little more real time pounding of the concrete. What some of the old bull elephants in the selling game call getting out of the mud bath and trudging into the village. Stay tuned.






Sunday, November 16, 2008

The Glamour of Arrogance


I don’t know what it is about Sunday. Where once there was a family dinner, now there is solitary reflection in front of an empty screen. From the perspective of practice, when I look around these days, what is it about Italian wine that seems to have become an endless catwalk of the richest, biggest and most obvious? Standing in line, waiting to talk to a wine buyer last week, I was thumbing through a pile of wine reviews and noticed how the wines that were getting all the accolades ( read: 94 points and above) seemed to be these shorn up, beef-caked, tag-team wines that more resemble porn stars than classics. Who is putting these wines in their cellars, let alone their goblets?

When did the search for the Shangri-La of wine go so off track? The history of Italian wine shows us that it was built up over the ages by the monastics, who took care to keep the light burning through some dark and dreary days. Nothing so glamorous then, working the fields in the dark, at 4:00 AM in the biting cold. Year after year. With no love, save the Divine Love, to keep the solitary worker in the field, hopeful for a better day. Hope and faith. Not arrogance.

I went through a wine collection yesterday, one that has been in the works for 30 years. In it many of the bottles were created by people that are long gone. Some of the newer wines, one in particular, A Super Tuscan from a producer in Montalcino, struck me. I don’t know what the owner will do with the wine. It has too much power to be enjoyed. It’s too noisy, wants to lead but doesn’t really need a partner to dance with. I’d say to put it in the ‘drink now’ bin, but I’m not sure it will ever be ready to drink.

I spied a few California wines, some which were blockbusters in their day, now shuffling off to the veteran’s home, no fire left in them. Maybe that is where these over-promising and under-delivering Super Tuscans will end up. Which seems like a waste of the Tuscan land which wrought them from the ground.

Whether it is Tuscany or Campania, Sicily or Friuli, Italian wines are at a crossroads. They have fashioned themselves to be these worldly wines in a universe of other worldly wines, all competing for the attention of the same buyer. And those buyers are looking for the next big thing, whether it is an Ovid from Napa or a Mollydooker or God knows what. Why? When did Ferrari seek to emulate General Motors? Or Ducati chase after Harley Davidson? Still, Italian wine chases after the Shangri La wine crowd.

And if an Italian wine becomes a landmark, say a Sassicaia or a Bric dël Fiasc, does that really lead them (and the rest of us) into the Promised Land? How does it go, for what shall it profit a man, if he shall gain the whole world, and lose his own soul?

And if the Italian wine succeeds in becoming the king pin of all wines, then what? Defending a territory that for all purposes doesn’t exist in Italy? That would be the fitting punishment for succeeding in looking away from all that is unique and indigenously wonderful in many of the wines of Italy. It’s not too late to turn back, some of the young winemakers have looked beyond marketing and their Upper West Side flats to embrace their soil. Not glam, but sans arrogance. We can only hope. And work to help those who see this as a time to return to their winemaking as an act of selflessness and true vocation. Sounds almost ecclesiastic. Oh, wouldn’t it be loverly?

Then all we’d have to do would be to figure out what to do with all these monstrous wines lying around.




Friday, November 14, 2008

Casual Fridays Redux: Nomadic Furniture for the Jug Wine Lover

My friend Hank Rossi and his wife Phillissa just returned from a two month nomadic trip across Europe, their blog is a hoot, go give it a look-see. To ease them back into the New America, I am offering them post-economic meltdown re-design suggestions for their flat. Unless they got out of the market before they left, they might not be traveling as much. Knowing Hank, they probably have all their money intact, which would be OK with me, seeing as they are great folks. And when they are gone we sneak in their place (the doorman loves Pinot Grigio) and have wild parties in their place. I also drive their Jaguar convertible around town, acting like I'm in a higher income bracket that I really am. All in good fun. So to welcome Hank and Phil back I am bringing back an old post I did a couple of years ago. Since then there are more new furniture projects. Have at it Hank, Rossi wine in jugs is the new paradigm for the economic times; sales of Carlo Rossi are off the charts!

Years ago I had a sculpture teacher in Silicon Valley whose father-in-law was Carlo Rossi. We used to go up to the prof’s house in San Francisco because his wife cooked for us (and she was real pretty), and we always had an endless supply of wine. It was cool.

Now all those empty jugs of Carlo Rossi wine can have a new life. Artist Jay Blazek of Seattle has created 6 do-it-yourself projects.

Go to CarloRossi.com and see for yourself. Videos outline how to make in a simple and entertaining manner.

The Cabernet Couch, just the spot to do some vertical (or horizontal) tastings


Wednesday, November 12, 2008

Are We Not Drawn Onward to New Era? *

So here we are again, the harvest is completed and the new wine is in the barrel. Once more the cycle begins anew, a sequence which we in the wine business live to develop and enjoy. Already we are hearing talk about the miraculous victory of the return, the gathering of the century, the harvest of hope. The bringing in of a new dawn, the hope of a new age.

And during the daytime I am like a priest in a confessional listening to folks in the wine business go over all the sins, not of their own, but of the others.

Today in a little trattoria; a rather immense man, with an even larger ego, walks in and proceeds to sit in the table next to me and my lunch companion, an old pro who has seen it all. This large man is a small distributor and he knows not of the code of professional regard. All the wine in his beat up 30' by 70' stockroom is a small insignificant corner of a warehouse somewhere in the Midwest, forgotten by time or care. But as he has not trodden the path of the ancients, his malfeasance is to ignore the history of his trade and mock those who have paved the Via Appia so that he may pretend to be in the company of those who really give a crap.

But then again, he doesn’t dine regularly with Cicero and Seneca, so what can he know about where he is going? Like so many who think they must abjure their competition, I just laughed at his folly on my way out the door. I could pretend to be a bigger man than the whale. After all, what runs through my veins flowed through the Tiber, then and now. As we all have.

Today I saw a group of college students as they were being taken on a tour of one of the big warehouses, in for a little recruitment into our multi-thousand year old trade. How I’d love to have five minutes with them. But since I haven’t been asked, wait, this is my wine blog, I can take five minutes. Or ten.

Dear new generation looking to come into our tiny little global wine village,

If you are looking to join up to make a lot of money, think again. If you are looking for a career, well maybe you could call it that. If you don’t know what to do with your life, but if you don’t do anything you’ll end up like a character in a Camus novel. And that would be distressing to a generation that has had so much landed right in front of you.

If you are looking for a place to get a free drink on a Friday morning, you’ve come to the right place. But if you have alcoholic tendencies, this place could be worse than Gitmo for you.

If you want to travel all over the world, you missed that boat by about 20 years. Can't even make it up in coach.

So what is it that would draw you to this wine business? Not money, nor travel, nor an escape from some kind of existential ennui.

Well, let me tell you. Because I was once there on the outside-looking in. I really didn’t know what to do with my life. I had graduated from a private university and the economy was in the tank. Gas prices were high, home values were crashing, the stock market was a mess and American cars were the pits. But I remember the times I’d drive up Highway 29 in Napa and think what a wonderful little place that was. Or I’d think about the grapes I had picked in Calabria and thought how special it was to sit in a cellar at night with a bunch of cousins who I didn’t understand and they surely didn’t understand me. But after a bottle or two of wine in that musty, balmy old place, a miracle occurred. We started understanding each other. Our global village was born there and to this day I have been under the influence of a power greater than anything I could ever imagine or take credit for creating. In a phrase, I found my place. I belonged. And that gave my life meaning. Greater than the $100 million bucks one of my sad relatives probably just lost. Greater than the fame my college friend Tony once had, a friend who can no longer find it in him to return a phone call from one of his friends before he became famous ( him, not his friend). I am having a Lou Gehrig moment, and I have it often in this crazy old wine business.

Oh, one other thing – find a specialty, be it Port or Bordeaux or naturally made wine or the wines of Campania, just find a way to be seen as having a special niche. And don’t forget to love all the other wines too, for they are all part of the same energy and deserve your respect and honor.

Do that and your “career” will take you anywhere you want to go. And before you know it, you will have been in it for some time and you’ll be walking down a corridor and pass by a group of young folks on the outside looking to get in. And then the large cycle will have made its rounds and you’ll be part of the elite group of folks, from Chaldea in 1000 B.C to Suvereto in 2008.


To answer the question which started this post – Yes, we are drawn onward.


There’s something about all these old and familiar worn out faces.




*Are We Not Drawn Onward to New Era?