Im sitting in a French café,
people watching and methodically
casting judgement. I feel
like George Orwell.
My coffee has gone cold,
but the taste has not died
like the warmth, and as
a man walks in, his face
creased by the unforgiving years,
I order another one anyway.
Feb 4, 2014
Feb 4, 2014 at 3:32 PM UTC
Im sitting in a French café,
people watching and methodically
casting judgement. I feel
like George Orwell.
My coffee has gone cold,
but the taste has not died
like the warmth, and as
a man walks in, his face
creased by the unforgiving years,
I order another one anyway.
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