The coffee shop, with all its noise, is the kind of quiet that suits me. I’m plugged into my music, with a latte on table, and my bag left on the seat opposite the one I’ve slid myself into.
Time seems to slow down. It’s a while before I have to get up and make my way through the unsheltered heat to my destination, then brave my way through a couple of hours at work.
But that’s not in another 30 mins.
I sift through my bag for my Kindle, only to realise that I’ve left it on the table at home. I berated myself silently, as though this moment of folly had hampered my reading rhythm to a point of no return. Funny how I really yearn to read when I can’t.
Funny too how absence makes the heart fonder.
Is it because we only preserve the best of something in our hearts when it’s no longer?
Zitten plays in my earphones.
슬픔이라는 그 감정도 흘러가더라
지나간 대로 그런 의미가 있대