Yet, it was not the wine that inebriated me. I have never tasted that wine. I don't know how it tastes. Whether it's red, white, rose, scarlet, aged, or fresh, no matter when or how it was produced or drunk, no wine has a trace of me.
But all the same, each time the word 'wine' is uttered, people recall my name.
I have never tasted the wine as an intoxicating drink.
But my intoxication grew gradually. To such an extent that a moment came, and I could neither recognize myself nor another.
That moment, when I entirely removed myself from existence, nothing meant anythin anymore.
And at that very moment, I realized that 'things2 alone don't have a meaning
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