I was in a certain coffee shop last week, and I was thinking about how I love coffee shops. I knew I wanted to write a blog post about it, but I didn’t have my computer with me. All I had was some scrap paper in my purse, and so on that piece of paper I wrote the following thoughts:
If I had a journal or a computer with me here, I am almost certain I would write. But what I’d write I have no idea. There’s just something about this place that could inspire the least artistic person to feel artsy. I don’t know if it’s the creamy tan walls, though empty now, that are normally filled with the most interesting paintings by unknown artists, that inspire people; or maybe it’s the uniqueness of the tables, one decorated with pictures of doors, and on the side of which is written, “The doors are always open,” another adorned with a black bikini under glass. The only question is, what does this place inspire?
I’m sure I would feel inspired, but maybe only to do nothing but sit and enjoy the playful music in the background speakers and listen to the baristas call out orders while couples sit and talk about their everyday lives as if that was all that mattered. Kind of romantic, somewhat stereotypical, but lovely in the simplicity of small things. I don’t know if this is the place I want to leave so I can live my life, or the place I want to come to escape it.