Coffee outlets symbolize a special opportunity to notice the human race in relative anonymity. Sitting in downtown Toronto in the waiting around interval amongst when my wonderful girlfriend joins me and when my daughter is completed at concert she is viewing I do what the regular man or woman in this coffee shop does not. I pause. In pausing I watch and pay interest to the environment.
The sound of milk steaming and the odor of refreshing espresso. The clanging of spoons as baristas serve up very priced custom beverages. Hash Amsterdam of freshly brewed espresso tinted with an assortment of aromas as perfumes and aftershave and entire body door at the finish of the day all clash for dominance in an olfactory assault. I let the taste of my own very priced drink (minimal excess fat vanilla latte) roll by way of my mouth the way I would cherish a good glass of scotch. In doing so, in consciously stopping and emotion, I open myself up to all around me...
Conversations in other circumstances that would be whispered, seam to acquire a daily life and validity of their very own as volumes boost so that buddies can hear every single other. Projecting their volume in a vomitus mass of words that in common situation would not be mentioned in general public at all - or at a bare minimum in hushed tones. Often fearful that the secrets exchanged would go flying to ears that need to not hear them. Yet the inside of the espresso store would seem to immune from these kinds of niceties as individual privacy. There are discussions about discounts that men and women are operating on,conversations about managers, businesses, shares - all the discussions that you would anticipate in a coffee shop in the heart of the financial district. There are discussions about co-personnel, conversations about going out right after function (but as prolonged as *he* doesn't come) conversations about household adjustments - who is getting married, getting a child, and who died.
However there is also a further much more significant undertone. The two baristas who pause a bit when their arms touch. The shorter brunette searching at the taller blonde with a obstacle as she looks absent with a refined blush. There is the enterprise man and his feminine colleague. He is talking to a team in a style deserving of Socrates but fails to discover how his companion cringes from his touch. Fails to recognize the plastic and rigid smile that is pasted to her face as she appears to endure the predicament, slipping deeper and further into herself as she emotionally and bodily withdraws from him.