sábado, 2 de novembro de 2013


It is a cold day. And as usually, it was hard for me to get up this morning. But now I am here, sitting alone in my kitchen. Enjoying the morning solitude. I have just prepared myself some fresh coffee and the smell fills the kitchen. It helps me to feel awake for one more day. You know, this is one of my favorite parts of coffee, the aroma. It is just that, as I hold my coffee mug with both my hands, and feel the heat, the smell fulfills me. It is the smell of the coffee break from my first job. The smell of my home kitchen, which is far away, in Brazil. Of "please mom, can't I sleep for just 5 more minutes?"
Before taking my first sip of coffee, I look inside the mug and there it is another of my favorite things of coffee: the color. I know I can almost sound ridiculous, but I will say it anyway. I'm fascinated by the blackness of coffee. It does not resemble at all the artificial color of a coca-cola, with its stressed bubles. No... With coffee it's different. He just lays there, quiet, releasing a discrete mist, like if he were just waiting for me. I stare at my cup of coffee, but he just stares back. He keeps looking back deeply into my eyes, challeging me. I can almost hear "are you gonna face another day?" I try to object, but he ignores me. He ignores and keeps staring at me. And like it usually happens in those imaginary eye battles, one part must lose. So I look away. I close my eyes pretending it will make me enjoy better the fragrance. But then, I realize that, instead of running away from the darkness, now I am inside it. It is not dark only inside my coffee mug, but everything around me becomes dark
I keep my eyes shut for a moment. The scent and the darkness play tricks with my mind. While the aroma takes me back to several familiar memories, with pleasant colors I already know, the darkness leads me to a world of colors I have never imagined before. Colors that are waiting for me in this unknown future. And then I catch myself feeling amazed by their beauty and hardness. They are the hidden colors inside my dark coffee. This journey lasts only for a moment, because I quickly open my eyes and find myself again alone in my kitchen. Outside my gray window a raven sings sadly in the Berliner sky.
And Berlin's melancholic sky reminds me of my third favorite part of coffee. I like how bitter it tastes. I have stopped adding suggar to my coffee for a while now. I must confess that I don't miss it anymore. Maybe I'm getting old, but with time I've learned that sweetness can make you sick. One cannot rely on a blue sky everyday. There isn't such a thing as a life of only happiness. And this is fine. What we understand as undesirable can also hold a hidden beauty. Bitter and sour also play an important part in life. And it would be unbearable to have an entire life where you only know the obvious tastes. 
Only then I take my first sip of coffee, receiving this black bitter liquid, that carries in it memories, fears and amazing possibilities.
Good morning.

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