In the beginning was the Word, that is, Philosophy. I read Buber once, and there was also dialogue. Since I came from a mildly Catholic background where life was most respected, I added all life to it, and the necessity of talking to the respect for life.

Being social creatures, we must talk. Talking is the most effective shield to protect us from threats other members of society pose. Only talking allows us to manipulate, i.e., play politics, oppose, agree to something, or go beyond our natural loneliness. To speak, we need language as a form and content, i.e. everything we want to discuss. We do not talk in silence, which is the natural face of loneliness.

Wine has been an instrument of dialogue since the dawn of time. Since I am not interested in it for its taste but rather in a vehicle to facilitate the message, I am in favour of limiting its meaning. I am only interested in it as an instrument of dialogue. Wine can be a very treacherous friend, too.

By becoming addicted to wine, it can take over me and deprive me of my freedom. The free choice then gives way to a constant desire to remain under the influence of winey euphoria, which ultimately excludes the possibility of conversation and deprives one of autonomy – manipulation in its worst form coming from a material element. You can deal with human manipulation. No one can cope with the material suffering resulting from addiction.

Wine and Dialogue

And so one day, Buber or Levinas met the tastes of wine in my head, and I started my monologue on the blog pages to share myself with others. I have created my premises for the dialogue, which this blog is about, and I am eagerly waiting for stray interlocutors. In the beginning was the Word.