The Replies Book

It wasn’t the coffee.

That was good indeed, yet it was the twinkle of an eye and the finest decor in town that made the place famous.

At least to me!

Those working there seemed to treat it like a temple to human contact and the gathering of friends.

There can’t be much other purpose, not a higher one I suspect, to a café or restaurant.

After all anyone can cook or brew….at least after a fashion!

Only the place, this place, that place and those special places, are worth and worthy of our attention.

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We had the talk.

Afterwards we went for a long walk. The trees swayed as if listening to what we had learned from each other.

We both felt stronger, bolder and most importantly, funnier.

No jokes were needed for us to laugh.

The jokes were all around us.

Living in this world.

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Driftwood and wrapping paper.

A suspicion of kindness and command.

Every shelf has a name, or would have if the contents piled upon them could speak.

No security, no leak, just a match made above the mountain’s peak.

Gliding across the grains of sand.

A bucket of crystal clear water in hand.

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Don’t be silly.

So they said.

I knew that my ideas were possible, perhaps not probable, but world-improving-saving-and-wonderful.

They still are.

Some exist as today’s reality, others are still on their way to appear near you!

There’s a lot to do, each day more gets done.

It all has my renewed attention.

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Enabled by yoghurt.

Slowed by a rather fine red wine suitable for aubergine-meat dishes.

An Olympic spirit sent by your own personal valet god.

Mechanical-celestial seasoning and salt water reasoning.

Lost is not the word, found is the goal.

Reaching boiling point while remaining cool.

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