Silk strings cover unfinished floors and postcards paper beams. (Lady-bums in lycra on 80’s ocean sand, back when bottoms had some plum and came in twos and threes). It’s basically impossible to get coffee here the way I take it – organic espresso with steamed unsweetened almond milk (also organic). Perhaps that makes the energy of the situation apparent. I would rather go here than to any one of the many that accommodate my preference and crank out all varieties of self-centered hot drinks. Because what is here is weather and story. Long skinny benches don’t pamper. They push people into conversation. Here, they don’t know my name yet. But every time I go something happens.