These grapes don’t look like ambition.

They look like patience. Old wood, cracked and scarred, holding up something soft and temporary. The vine doesn’t rush. It doesn’t ask if it’s ready. It just keeps doing the work—season after season—until sweetness happens on its own. I like that the fruit grows low, close to the gnarled parts. Not at the flashy tips….

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Espresso time.  Headed downstairs…. The idea of a voice, stemming from telecom, and marketing, the idea of a message being delivered and felt, and a direct or indirect call to action. 13 minutes till meeting.  Using it all for this writer and his idea of the morning.  Going downstairs and taking a couple pictures of…