A coffee shop and conversation on a Monday night. There’s a storm brewing outside and it makes the coffee better somehow. Behind the counter, she can hold a conversation with anyone. At the counter myself, I can write anything I want. It might get read, it might not. I can share it, I can keep it hidden; it doesn’t matter. What matters is that life is vivid. It is vital. Literally. And I mean literally literally. I have to say that, because literally, like love, is overused and abused as a term. Life, love, and vitality. All go up in flames. Burning like calories. If the calories don’t burn you just get fat. And if you get fat, you have a hard time running. You get lethargic and everything becomes stale.
Don’t let things get stale. Stale bread, stale coffee, stale life. It’s crumbles and tastes terrible.