Slow mornings
The best part of a new city is the first hour after sunrise, when the streets belong to bakers, cats and people washing the pavement in front of their shops.
The best part of a new city is the first hour after sunrise, when the streets belong to bakers, cats and people washing the pavement in front of their shops.
Every trip I pack a little lighter, and every trip I still find something in the bag that never left it. The list keeps shrinking; the curiosity does not.
Light roast, a paper filter, water just off the boil. Nothing clever. It tastes better outdoors, which is not something I can explain.