Tea Time

Sometimes I wish I was someone who was dedicated to collecting things. I've noticed I'm not intensely passionate about saving knick knacks and memories. Even at times I get a bit lax on shooting and don't capture all the moments that I wish I had. With that, I wish I could collect polaroid moments of my tea times with Dave.

Nothing beats the hum of hot, stringed lights in a cafe...the clank and dunk of metal, connecting to the robot that spits out brown revitalizing water; the warmth between your hands whilst giving your mug a big ol' palmed hug. 

Tea time. 

I get to sit across from someone I adore. I get to analyze the small crevices in his skin that map out his worries and his laughter. I get to watch him through fogged eyes as I bring the cup to my lip and the steam rolls out in front of my face. 

Tea time. 

I get to hear the creak of the doors from hurried bathroom users, the caffeine always hitting the bowels unpredictably. To watch the woman who sits alone and stares longingly out the window, maybe thinking of a love that once was or yearning to float on the sea. The small clip clop of shoes on beat up wood floors. 

Tea time.