This winter, as you pour warm sake into her belly button, reflect on her curvaceousness. The overflow of sake as it moves downward from her navel following the will of gravity in a snake like motion and then settling down into her boundless beauty a whiff of nature mixed with hints of soft floral scented sake and then a nice quaff as the after-taste permeates back into your nose – (sigh) this is what winters are for.
Her snow clad hair, majestic mountains rising up out of a natural hot spring as she stands up, tiny little beads of healthy sweat moving down the nape of her neck and down her shoulders; breathing slightly heavily, yet naturally and evenly, exhaling sake scented breath.
She presents herself to me with approving eyes, sushi neatly and beautifully adorned around each areola as each nipple stands erected presenting its pinkish colored centers.
Mons veneris can that be? I almost mistook it for a shiny beautiful black sea urchin waiting for me to eat. How fine and soft must you be lost in all eternity.
The magical essence of sake is that it drinks us whereas drinks like scotch, whisky and bourbon exude its strong and masculine characteristics upon us. These hard drinks demand our attention and then they kick our heads in every morning in the form of a hang over.
Nihonshu is a spiritual drink that fades away in the morning with faint memories of a great time had, or a great time lost as fate would have for so many at the bottom of the Marianas. As we imbibe off of that beautiful 1.8 litre of sake we pay a little more extra attention to our drinking vessels, the long upward and beautiful one leg of that sake bottle beautifully adorned in ancient Japanese calligraphy, that tiny little sake cup with no bowl and no stem that was uniquely handcrafted by some forgotten great Japanese hand somewhere deep in Nara. We never question its whereabouts we just tip our cups.