cafe bench
I have had this page open for days, waiting for the right moment to write my story. I have an hour left on my meter and the backs of my ankles are killing me — I thought it would be a good idea to not wear socks with my new shoes.
I’m in Los Angeles, sitting on this little bench, in this little cafe. I’m also running out of power and there is exactly one outlet available to the public. One.
There’s something about cafes that allows me to fall deep into the depths of my mind. Is it the sound of the coffee grinder? Is it the coffee itself? Or is it the conversations between people I will never know after this moment?
I think I like cafes because I feel important — at least I look like I’m doing something important as I stare intensely at my laptop screen, probably scrolling through Twitter.
-n. (Alfred Coffee + Kitchen)