I imagined walking into a market, the kind that touts fresh, organic produce. The kind that plays Miles Davis, preferably, ‘Kind of Blue’ above in-store sprinklers, misting fruits like there a garden.
I imagined within the congregation of citrus fruits – a pink one. Its texture was like freshly squeezed juice – pulp floating like a life vest in a lake on a weekend holiday. It was, delicate like a lady, vibrant. And then, quickly subdued, like when the sun shines and in a flash is masked by a shadow. This was espresso, it really was. And, it was sweet, as if a kind of pink.
Coffee Shop: S,T Coffee
Location: Bedstuy, Brooklyn