There is an astonishing similarity between the vine and the wine, beyond the fact that the one is the child of the other.
They are both carried aloft by life, this much-vaunted life that the winemaker will elevate with his ancient skills.
This same life that works by stirring our desire at every moment to discover the mysteries of the Vine and Wine…
Our Earth, this sacred earth…
Our Earth – she who patiently nourishes the work of the winemaker, ratifying with her imprint the wisdom of her flesh – while in the twirling glass, from where springs her blood in full light, the aromas in their entirety are released, igniting in a single moment the imagination of he who listens to the distant echo of her forbidden delights…
The winemaker is the workman of the Spirit. Contemplating Nature, he shapes his world with the soul of the wine that he desires. And it is because he has his eyes riveted on her that he takes pride in and honours his hosts. For the winemaker does not make wine for any reward or satisfaction in any shape of form.
Furthermore, the winemaker does not develop the wine according to a practice that befits the times but only for the sake of the wine itself.
Wine is not only a beverage that can be savoured with a vocabulary that is ever more bombastic.
Wine, in the simplicity of its being, has whispered into the hollow of the attentive ear the most illustrious sonnets, thrusting swooning desire into the flattered soul of its lover…
