My sister may remember this?
Before "coffee" became uber-popular in one fell-swoop of consciousness and chains over-ran, we had a favourite small place. It went out of business from all the chains - isn't that how the story goes? The good honest brew.
The exterior and walls were just that shade darker than Yves Klein blue, and the rickety furniture barely held us, as we huddled small in the corner, amongst the working men and women pouring over the day's paper and gentry folk in their herringbone tweeds, unfolding their broadsheets. A cloud of coffee warming the place. The bearded philosopher, part-time barista, shaking down the filter, metal on metal, scrapping, and scooping a pile afresh of Java grind, then tamping it down. Steam hissing, filling milk with velvet bubbles, daydreaming of the words he had in is head, that would look so good on paper.
Dont' you feel alittle nostalgic for Java Java?
Before "coffee" became uber-popular in one fell-swoop of consciousness and chains over-ran, we had a favourite small place. It went out of business from all the chains - isn't that how the story goes? The good honest brew.
The exterior and walls were just that shade darker than Yves Klein blue, and the rickety furniture barely held us, as we huddled small in the corner, amongst the working men and women pouring over the day's paper and gentry folk in their herringbone tweeds, unfolding their broadsheets. A cloud of coffee warming the place. The bearded philosopher, part-time barista, shaking down the filter, metal on metal, scrapping, and scooping a pile afresh of Java grind, then tamping it down. Steam hissing, filling milk with velvet bubbles, daydreaming of the words he had in is head, that would look so good on paper.
Dont' you feel alittle nostalgic for Java Java?
Available on Etsy: java-java-print-pillow-cushion-cover