Did not post anything last night, got all dried-off, and did not want to make up any filling... Not last night. In the morning, however, I can see clearer. Briefly, I will explain what I mean by "the religion of coffee". Indeed, what coffee does it is not a religion -at least, a true religion-; it is more like a swindle, a trick.
More precisely, I refer to the morning coffee. A great traitor, a deceiver, it blinds your senses and shows hope to the hopeless_ switches on a light in the dark cave. It is a feeling of warmness dripping down your pipes into the stomach, which gives you relaxation for your nerves, comfort and embracement for your fears. But, alas! How much will this ploy it last?
Yve Lomax started her lecture last day with a cup of hot -let's suppose- coffee by her side. The hot beverage smoked mysteriously, powerfully next to her. She took a couple of sips and started the lessons. She read a couple of pages and sipped again from it. And that was the end. She did not drink anymore, and the half-fulled cup cooled down progressively, going off in senses and optimism, setting the surroundings, I imagine, in great distraught. I could hear the minor harmonies of a sad tune coming in from the distance.
Is there anything more unwelcome, dreadful, inhospitable than a cup of coffee dying out cold and dark in a forgotten spot?
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