Let me tell you the story of a café. It is located right in the centre of the town where nothing ever happens. Strong masonry, wooden tables, logs, simple yet spectacularly cosy, casual yet oddly fancy. If you spend ten minutes inside, you’d feel like you were inside your favourite book or movie. That is if you have a thing for subtleties in the art you consume.
It’s officially two months today since the day you left. I don’t remember much about that day. No, honestly, I don’t. All I remember are moments, and everything else is pretty much a blur. Before you judge me and give me that puppy face though, hear me out once.
When I was a somewhat younger version of the child I am today, I found an empty shoebox lying around in my cluttered house. Now as a child, I was filled with more sentiment than I was with logical thought and so I kept a rock in that shoebox. It was a small piece, but it was the start of an archive.