Coffee. Some days I need a cup in the morning, some days I don’t. Regardless of need it remains a nice habit to have a warm drink at my side as I work. Other parts of that routine is the buying or the making, and the pathways one follows: mentally, physically, perhaps in rare moments, metaphorically.

A thing I miss working from home, is the morning stroll from the station in Martin Pl, across Macquarie St, waiting forever for the lights to change. Pre coffee 90 seconds of standing at the crossing takes much, much longer. Crossing and sauntering between sandstone buildings as I wander on to the grounds of the eye hospital, out the back, opposite the fountain (which was not running in summer though it remains a grand sight), to the cafe in the courtyard. The same staff, Italian I think. They greet me, we humour each other, though they have more to say than I. This is ever my lot.

I visited the other day. I had to pop into work, to the building. I parked nearby and though running later than planned, I stopped by and ordered my usual. They were still there, still going, carrying on: convivial, relaxed, friendly. A retreat from the world.

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