Getting to love whiskey (... or ... fill in the gap) happens when the narrative of tasting it is indistinguishable from the recursive tongue/tasting of the narratives and idea/objects of my various brains left/right, un/conscious, human/reptilian (add to taste ...)
What a fea(s)t whisky is!
(Add a picture of a peach-tree here, if you've seen a good one lately ... )
Chorus: I don't know any philosophy [roy] (de capo). Note: this needs to be read along with the last few posts in this discussion in Modpo2013