Born out of clay that yearns for rain each year.
Born from the vine, from under the freshness of its leaf.
Boldly, it shows itself to the world, filled with intensity and inebriating aroma.
But it forgets.
It forgets the warmth of the soil, it forgets the hot winds, the refreshing and deep blue sky.
It forgets being vain but never being true.
BE BLUE, BE TRUE