The quiet tinker of ceramics against ceramics, quietly whirring coffee machines or the chink of aeropresse glass against glass, quiet conversation or mindful tapping – the sound of a coffee house is calming in a familiar sense.
Did you know there’s a whole community that seeks out the perfect blend by routinely trying one order, everywhere? That fascinates me. I personally like nothing more than upping sticks from my comfortable blanket fort at home, grabbing
your passport and my hand my purse and a book, and just heading to a coffee house. The quieter, the better. You can contemplate all sorts of things: what to make for dinner, the purpose of front doors that open outwards, the real origin of crop circles, how long one can buy their feelings… I like sitting with an empty page of my notebook, tracing notes and grand plans of what I could be doing if I had no obligations, what I want to be doing. I imagine and attach entire stories to my table neighbours. Do they have a job? Are they married? What’s their usual order? I contemplate why some people – myself included, I suppose, right now – spend their lives making other people insane sums of money and muddle through with dire non-organisation and daily conversations with no substance.
Thanks to old-timey films and new-gen movies, coffee houses possess an inherent rose-tint, a near-silent attitude that draws the non-discerning passer-by in. There’s a spirit about the art of the coffee bean and people looking for some refuge from the busy outdoors. Or maybe they’re just tired.
The Coffee Academics (Hong Kong)
Monmouth Coffee Co. (London)
Morris & Jacques (Brighton)
The Flower Power (Hertfordshire)
sensory Zero (Hong Kong)
Post inspired by Rae at Love From Berlin (her original post here).