Afternoon Musings in a Coffee Shop
By: Rodolfo Perez
This is for Brian Kwok, we care buddy.
There are things that are better left unsaid in the coffee shop. Live to be pure, but to yourself, not to everyone else. Believe in the idea that what is believed is in perception of what is never found. What does it mean to never be found? Is the man who seeks privacy through action and pure heartache a lonely man? Or has he fulfilled his purpose in life? How surreal coffee shops are. You walk in, and there, sitting at a table or stool or wooden wicker chairs, you will find people. These people sit, some writing, some reading, and some talking to their mothers, others their partners. They sit in close proximity to each other, yet they have, and most likely want, little to do with each other. They are in their own worlds, away from the brash sounds of the coffee making machine or the coffee maker. The people sit, working, stopping for the occasional sip of their drink or a quick bite of their muffin. These people may be working on the next great poem, or song, or screenplay, yet we ignore them. We assume their creative endeavors, and take them for being beings of lost power. A power many of the people I see sitting once had. Some may have a power to grab the attention through their art, or shift that attention away from themselves or the sake of solitude, but even then, how long will that last? When will these people wake up one fine morning, to find that they can’t capture the minds and imaginations of anyone but themselves? When will they walk into a coffee shop like this expecting that power to come back to them, only to find that it’s a new day, and there’s something new to look at. The person sits and waits for the inspiration to come back. The person sits for some time, but the one thing they feared has become a reality. The person sits, reflecting on what there is left to do in a place like this. They pay for what the place was made for, and they sit for a while longer, then they leave.