Moroccan mint and cherry cola-colored petticoats coalesce, swishing softly as they sing their siren song along cobblestone streets smooth as the individual drupelets of a raspberry, or the taste buds dotting the surface of your tongue, interspersed with tantalizing turquoise suits and heady hibiscus handkerchiefs chasing diligently after, offering chartreuse and mezcal lime elixirs, intended to lure astray with their promise of a fantastic Faustian bargain. Now, between every perfect purple plum bump, and gunpowder green cannonball contour, fireworks can be glimpsed, like the ebb and flow of live coral in the sea, a pearl in each Kumamoto oyster twinkling with the light of a thousand stars shining down in the narrow overhead slices of night as seen through close-set buildings. The sea beckons, drawing the celebratory party ever onward, like an oasis in the desert to all in need of a drink, like toro belly sushi with fresh wasabi to those ravenous with hunger. Elegant as elderberry, piercing as persimmon, and sweet as quince candy, this Zinfandel is a tide in which to be swept away; a swirling vortex of jujube and white fig, followed by a misting Meyer lemon spray.