Nostalgic Coffee
"Could you check the weather?" My sister-in-law yells out the window
I feel a sharp tingle of irritation coursing through the skull to my back and the frustrated whiff of air flowing through my lips but I resist showing the grumpiness for the interruption.
I had just begun to distill the warm rich aroma that passed through, the flavor and thickness that played with my palette which had instantly transcended me, miles away to one chilly morning at a local coffee shop at South Station.
But obedient as ever, I take my phone out and begin typing.
Wea..
The breeze suddenly turns cold and now the breeze too reminds of a wise man I once met who said there goes a saying, "If you don't like the weather in Boston, wait a minute!" and so I would... to explore the uncharted alleys of my favorite city or yet again head to romanticize the atlantic ocean sitting at the edge of harbor.
Nature, Coffee and Technology urge me to reminisce my favorite city.
A few fond memories have passed by and I try to go back to the aroma from the now tepid coffee but they reveal other sweet memories: The eagerness that comes with morning freshness. A nostalgia of a girl and her perfume that never was. The garlic and chive bagel on Everett Street. The friday maroon seats of the commuter rail.
Then again, sometimes days on end, I just sit with my cup of coffee and my unopened notebook hoping I write words of wisdom but ritual dictates I must reminisce the past and my lack of emotional depth. . . to which the analytic in me intervenes with a cleaverly paraphrased Arthur Schopenhauer, "Every man takes the limits of his own emotional depth for the limits of the world" because I would have sworn that the poets spun out a lie to mock the disillusioned and the uneducated in the matters of love.
. . .Until I realized I was truly taken aback with your beauty and what I received from you.
Then, I knew I was in love for the first time. So this is my..
Love Letter to Boston
Hold on.. Wait for Mahim to write part II