Since a month or maybe two ago, every time I go to the cellar to get some wine, I see a tiny insect circling above the tap of one of my wine barrels. It must be a wine fly, whose larvae live in wine and other fermented drinks. There is just one of them in my cellar, though, apparently always in flight in almost complete darkness. I assume the larvae are ensconced in the small but viscous puddle of wine on the concrete floor under the tap. Anyhow, I have become kind of partial to that tiny fly. A few times a day I remember it rather fondly. And I smile in my mind’s eye as I imagine it circling and circling in the cellar. The poor thing is attached to wine even more than I have ever been.