The tap slides in the spigot is opened and 38 year wine flows out. Dear miserables it is not my bag any more as I grasp this small plum ball gently squeezing keeping this paperclip tangle tight the spiral spine wound pages from getting lost this is the best way to give from my easy chair while Mary is still in her spotless white robe I give from the marrow my wholeness rushes where needed outside the wind blows cold the rain falls gutters fill while inside this cantina we join over cookies and grape juice.