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April 21, 2013 / AnnieBellsCan

Do you like coffee?

I like coffee. A lot. I like everything about it.

I like the process of making a cup of coffee. The exhilarating 1-2 minutes while you wait for the kettle to boil. Maybe it’s the morning and you use this time to run through your day. I usually just stand there sighing and thinking about how much I’d just rather stay home and drink coffee.
There’s something ritual about putting your ingredients into your pot of love (I think normal people call them Mugs) and something immensely calming about the soft bitter smell that makes it way to your nose as you pour in the boiling water. I love the smell of black coffee, I love the taste. It’s so raw and makes your mouth water. In my opinion coffee tastes better black and milk just weakens it. I don’t know what it is, but to me it makes it something it isn’t. Unfortunately though my stomach doesn’t agree with coffee straight up and I tend to feel nauseated all after.

I have this tiny habit when I make coffee. I don’t remember where it started but I just do it automatically now. Whenever I’m making coffee I pour in the water and then lift it up to my nose and inhale the warm sharp scent. I love it. If I could wash my hair in that smell I would.It calms me, and yet it excites me at the same time. I love coffee because it’s the only substance that makes me feel so much. It’s just a cup of coffee but it’s so much more.

It’s relaxing after a day at work, waking up after a long night, frustration during a uni assignment, an object of reward, a stimulant, a relaxant, something warm, something to hold, something to look forward to, something to spend an afternoon with, something to treasure. Coffee is something isn’t it. It’s magical and beautiful and lovely.

I remember when I started my coffee ‘obsession’. I was attending a school that required an hour long train trip to get to every morning. My train left at 07:15 and got me into town at roughly 08:30. I lived about 2 kms from the train station and my mother didn’t drive so I used to ride my bike in the morning. I was alllways kept up late the night before and so I was usually too exhausted to get up before 6:30. which was just enough time to showerget dressed and run out the door. If you where lucky enough to be catching an early train they would have a table out in the corner of the station with a kettle and coffee/tea supplies.
I would occasionally have a cup of tea on a cold morning and take it on the train with me. One morning it was freezing and it had been raining. The whole ride to the station I had been fighting off the thoughts of the cold by fixating my mind on a cup of tea. When I got to the station however, there was no tea, only coffee. I was freezing, I estimate the temperature to be about 4-6C. My fingers where so cold and numb I couldn’t even get the change out of my pocket to pay for my ticket. So I made a cup of coffee. I had had it before and it was pleasant, but this cup of coffee tasted like liquid gold. It felt like I was drinking life itself. I remember so clearly the feeling of holding that cup in my hands, of breathing in the smell, which smelt exactly how I felt… Bitter but sweet. The taste which just reinforced that on the crappiest day of that year something purely beautiful could exist.

That is my love of coffee.

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