lost and found
Some people can lose themselves in the music, others in a person and still others in the art.
I lose myself often in all of these because each finds itself in the character of a coffee that is, if I pause, we pause to feel long enough.
I remember the day, the day that I came home to two La Colombe coffees and smelled its notes singing to me from a square box with illustrations from its origin. They both wanted to meet me, its fragrance breaking out of the sealed container its beans were in. And I wanted to meet them. True to the nature of a voice, sometimes you can’t even know exactly why you like the sound of it, your spirit just does and responds. Tiga Raja spoke.
This voice felt like the sound of giggles as if it just rolled down hills in utter glee, a voice that understood the color purple, a voice that was wild, herbal. Its taste was like baked cashews with a spritz of thyme, soft to the tongue like cashmere and memorable, like a kind of moment you experience and you wish you could hold on to it, wrap up like a gift, with a ribbon around it and put under your pillow, where it will be kept safe so that you can revisit and reopen it again and again.
At last, coffee is an experience, a seasonal and tangible one, that doesn’t often repeat itself in the exact same way. That’s why I’m the ‘some people’ that just wants to get lost in the coffee I don’t want to be found. |