Fumbling inside an art deco cabinet for an attractive shiraz to warm an otherwise unassuming evening, my hands caressed the clasp holding the opposing door in place. I was fascinated by this mechanism as a child, an equally unassuming aspect of an heirloom from my great grandmother. The brass clasp would break the symmetry of the piece by appearing on only the left door if it was not for its position inside the cabinet: to be felt but unseen unless sought.

Perishability does not cause childhood fascinations to fade but rather broadens curiosity's crosshairs along with an opening world. Corkscrew in hand, Chopin's Op. 28 prelude: No. 7 in A Major seemed to synchronise perfectly with my dance opening the wine bottle. Coincidence is to seduction as screw tops are to veniality; cork taint be damned.