The day was one even the weather would disown. Too cold to be warm enough and too freezing to feel anything but numbness. However, while walking fog coffee, I hurried into a small corner store that sold a variety of print magazines and buck twenty five bodega coffee. I was tempted to get one, but not really, knowing that better coffee was just down the corner and across the block.
I allowed my hands to rediscover feeling by catching warmth from flipping the pages of a real magazine. I was then asked by this woman and her friend which from the tin filed pockets were my favorites. I am always up for organic conversation and began to mention a few and the varied reasons why: ID, Interview, AFAR, the now web only Nylon, Art in America.
We then found ourselves peeling off a layer of clothes as time passed by and our page flipping and human-to-human interaction raised the Fahrenheit.
One day she wants to print magazines. And she’ll drink, “lots of coffee while doing it; I drink lots and lots of black coffee,” she said.
Talking to her reminded me that we get to ensure that the things we care about have a life, by supporting their existence, reinventing their use and creating our own impressions of them.
She’s a coffee drinker, by bodega and cafe. One day, we’ll walk into a small store and our zines will talk side by side as we warm our hands from coffee sleeves.
Make the things you want to see in the world, because everything we see, we see because someone wanted it.