Staring into the black pool abyss my face is an image of distorted want feeling the warmth rising to my cheeks inhaling the odours, fruits from Africa.
Teasing steam rises from the cup the liquid too hot for my mouth I settle for content of inhalation humid vapours of the roasted bean.
Farmers of Burundi caring for plantation hands pick the red fruits for extraction the green bean from the pulp Hamburg bound to me to purchase.
Roasted to a brown, not too dark ground coarse for a plunger measured by spoon, water boiled too slow passing moments of reflection. Then, my first sip!
Under the elderly limbs of the neglectedonce proud sentries lining thoroughfare their bent shapes overgrown with ivya guard once honoured lines our outbreak.Our […]
Clear and flat unblemished surfacecleaned and shining, returns the lightno bumps to shadow no hollows of darkplain and pure reflecting perfect brigbrightIn […]