Black coffee, Portuguese novels, tin fish and loose leaf tea. Music from 10 years ago, friends from then bubble up. I wonder how so-and-so is, I wonder- wonder, the next best thing to quietly seating with someone. A compliment is paid, with no receipt needed. To glance at them asleep waiting a til their chest rises, another day. A day filled with subtlety.

Google, how do I start the before the count of zero? Google does speaking in riddles count as another language? West Africa starts before 1, the beat starts before 0, at least the drums.

Yo ja anvoyé mitin-an jis lòt simenn [ they have postponed the meeting until next week] , what about next month, what about next year ? The next life. Its the fleeting nature of others.

I know, I hope, I know, I hope- faith exist before 1.

Yo ja débawé chimen-an èk mwen sa pase, débòdé! [they’ve opened the road and I can pass, overflow!]

Simple black coffee, but black coffee and “El Camino De Mi Alma“ by Hermonos Guitérrez paired with a Pablo Neruda poem about something usual, like a tuna in a fish-market, an apple for breakfast, or love. The usual.