What a piece of shit is a man, so reductive in faculties... more crap to do, to be done, every day... This morning, a man in the Cave opposite the garage in La Liviniere put his foot in an augur - a high-torque screw pump which pushes grapeskins through a foot-wide pipe - and lost it. What does this augur? I know where and into what I've put my foot enough times - blood spurting from the bloody stump and entering the must line, blending with the juice of grenache, cabernet, syrah... blood and wine: the connection is inescapable... Back home, I get a text from D., and dream of digging, rooting about, knee-deep in flesh, the juices flowing all around me, the musty scent, the sweat, confined in our small yellow-painted chamber...

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