My friends have opened their new café today. It’s named after a Haruki Murakami novel, A Wild Sheep Chase. There is a lustre of the surreal here amidst the minmalism. It’s very Japanese, I guess.
Their milk coffee lights up my day: I’ve been looking for decent coffee without any superfluous latte art for ages and finally found it here.
There’s a scene from the film Taipei Exchanges, about a dreamer opening a coffee shop out of sheer love of the café experience. She explains her reason for not adding latte art to her coffee — she wants customers to interpret each individual cup any way they like. Every cup is unique, just like the people she serves.
Not wanting latte art is also a thing though. It’s a preference. Today having no latte art feels right. Tomorrow I might crave a rosetta or tulips. I might want a heart.
Today, however, we are heartless. We stare into the ensō, the Zen circle, the abyss.