java
memory lane
i didn’t start drinking coffee until somewhere around 1st year university1. and yet, my estimation of how homey a home somehow depends on how homey its cafés are.
to you, that should not be novel. but in writing that down, i’m reminded of the good ‘ol days at thrifty foods where i would often take my breaks from the nearby tim hortons/watering hole, surrounded by the local wildlife: old men chatting about ice hockey. i always said that would never be me. that’s not me. right? right?2
future lane
these days i’m finding some solace in oakland cafés. they’re not home, but they’re not nothing.