a cup of coffee—real coffee— home-browned, home ground, home made, that comes to you dark as a hazel-eye, but changes to a golden bronze as you temper it with cream that never cheated, but was real cream from its birth, thick, tenderly yellow, perfectly sweet, neither lumpy nor frothing on the java: such a cup of coffee is a match for twenty blue devils and will exorcise them all. |
henry ward beecher

i think he takes his coffee as seriously as i do... maybe a bit more!

photo taken at a starbucks
on the boulevard saint-michel, paris, may 2006


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