summer wine

Time never seems to fly faster than when we want it to stop...it is like it obstinates to do its will, against ours. And the faster it flies, the drunker we get- with feelings, sensations, all senses being entwined in our mind's realm of souvenirs... And yet, or exactly because of this drunkness at the end of summer the sweet-sour taste of wine is all there is, plus probably a scrapbook of visual captures of past moments....