Fascination

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From an azure mug resting on a pine table, the earthy aroma of creamy hazelnut espresso lingered in the café’s cosy atmosphere, its wisps of steam drifting away into the air, engulfed by the drowsy soundwaves of a whimsical dream-pop beat that wafted through the dim-lit room. Something ever so peaceful could be found in the fuzzy ambient buzz; a boisterous silence akin to lush woods and wave-lapped shores.

Sometimes, it’s all it takes. A different place for a different mood, and the world doesn’t feel quite as lonely anymore. A new song just in the old way we like it. Some art books to leaf through with an arborescent mind. The daunting mystique of an old map, for a rhizomatic wander. One more of those fleeting lapses whence life blooms and is actually experienced, beneath or between the productive outbursts subduing it.

„Fine, I’ll stay a little longer“, you yield a concealed coy smile from behind the glass of a heavy-on-the-rocks spirit to the cheering of friends and loved ones. Hands folded, all cards on the table painting windows into otherworldly places, you realise — no deadlines, no time to go, only time to live by. Thus the dead of the night moves into the wee small hours of the morning… And the world warms up a little, the very fabric of spacetime woven by a fool’s cracking laughter.

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Qui didicit, patriae quid debeat et quid amicis, quo sit amore parens, quo frater amandus et hospes, quod sit conscripti, quod iudicis officium, quae partes in bellum missi ducis, ille profecto reddere personae scit conuenientia cuique. Respicere exemplar uitae morumque iubebo doctum imitatorem et uiuas hinc ducere uoces.

Horatius.