Sunday, April 13, 2003

I’m sitting in a Starbuck’s, watching the people go by.

A man and his daughter sit next to me, the girl delightedly drawing on a piece of construction paper. Just drawing. Her father flips through a newspaper, and occasionally plays a game of Hangman with her (what a morbid connection!).

Others sit, and read their newspapers, and drink expensive coffee.

And I suddenly realize…there are no televisions blaring newsbites here. These are people reading about their country and their world, on a Sunday morning so beautiful it hurts.

Ha! There’s a guy next to me with a PowerBook. A brother. He leaves before I can say anything to him, though.

Here comes another half a dozen customers, and several know each other. This is Starbuck’s, the urban watering hole, where we finally have a place amid the concrete jungle to meet and chat and connect with each other. As much as it sounds like a clichè, it’s true.

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