Rainy Paris

Rainy afternoon in Paris, the smell of coffee and croissants and smooth jazz were occupying Anna’s senses. She is having her afternoon coffee as always in a nearby cafe. Newspapers are at her table and a little white dog named Kiwi is silent and yet full of energy, going around the table, finally settling itself on a chair beside it’s owner. It’s an early autumn and the cafe on the corner where a tree is standing wide and tall with its massive and strong branches and dark-green, and now wet from the rain, leaves, is filled with dark brown chairs and tables alike. The floor is in black and white diamonds and the wall is at the lower part wooden and white, above is plastered beige tapestry with slim and little orange and brown flowers. It looks quite vintage if I may add, and the pictures of many iconic musicians are hung up. Anna is sitting at the window, the entire wall is like a window. The rain started falling harder. Tables are set without any specific order around the cafe. In the middle of the window-wall the front door are standing tall, separating the left and the right part of it. The cafe is quite empty, there are only one or two occupied tables, besides the one where Anna’s sitting, in the darkness of it. Behind her, on the right wall the bar is set. From the bar deeper into the cafe the space is shrinking and the light coming from outside is much weaker. Anna has just eaten her cookie and is half way down with finishing her latte so she is taking the newspapers and is starting reading
“Kiwi, stand still please, steady! Good boy!” As she says that she gives him a treat and continues reading an article.
The little bell hung above the door has rung and a young and handsome man entered the cafe, looking quite confused. Anna looked up to see who entered the cafe on the tree-corner, even though she never does that. She would usually immediately look away but not this time. The young man stood his ground looking where would he like to sit the most, and when he glanced over Anna he couldn’t look away either. He started narrowing his eyes but kept coming back and looking at her, at the end he flashed a small and a very insecure smile and walked towards the counter to order his drink. Anna kept looking at him and smiled when he approached the bar. The man in shallow brown boots and jeans with a white short jacket and a black coat ordered machiato. His blonde hair coming to his chin and bangs tucked behind his left ear made him look like a young boy but his strong and tall features were telling that he is a young man in his mid twenties. When he took the coffee he again glanced over Anna with the same insecure half-smile and she returned with a sincere one. He then sat at a few tables away, across the counter and beside her, where the daylight still isn’t fading. He was listening to the jazz and the strong rain, his coat was quite wet and so was his hair, the big, dark umbrella didn’t help much, and he was looking at Anna reading the newspapers and the window. She would glance over him time to time just to find his eyes glued to her more frequently than to the street with the uncontrollable half smirk, while she would shyly smile every time, hiding a bit behind the papers, her eyes slowly shifting to the all so small letters on the way too big paper. They were both enjoying the sensation of the coffee, Paris and rain. They both didn’t notice how fast the time was passing. Anna called out for the waiter and gave him a tip. The boy and her gathered their things and got outside at the same time. They looked at each other again with small smirks and tried walking their ways but bumped into each other because they were blocking each other’s ways
“Sorry!”
“Oh I’m so sorry”
“I am going that way..”
“Yeah, I’m going that one…” they said and laughed a bit. They both walked their ways, she was going to the market and he who knows where. The rain hasn’t stopped or eased either.

Afternoon

Slovenia, Portorose

Slovenia, Portorose

What is more beautiful than a nice, relaxing afternoon? You are free to do whatever you want to. I’m all alone in my apartment at the moment, just sipping my coffee, listening to some music. Unfortunately I woke up too late so I kinda lost the morning but, I guess that isn’t so important. It’s a nice day today, a bit cloudy though. Telly is turned off and all I hear is the music that I chose to play. There is nothing more I love than writing, thinking and listening to music while eating candies and drinking coffee. The song which was playing is finished and all I hear is the sound of racing cars outside.

A Man

coffee-and-cigarettes

Today I saw an old man sitting alone in a cafe. Outside was a sunny, quite hot day, you could say it was perfect. He was sitting, as I’ve already said, alone in the shadow of the cafe, holding a cigarette in his hand, flipping it around his fingers time to time. He was leaning on a table, hands crossed. He was looking in front of himself. Jazz was playing at the back. On the table were lying a coffee, plastic bag with something square shaped inside, a pocket of cigars with a lighter set on them and a couple of other things. He was deep in thought. What could he have been thinking about? Love or a job? A book or a trip? The days that were, are, or even the days that lie ahead of him? Mistakes or possibilities? Maybe he saw a girl who reminded him of his long lost love, or his wife when she was young. Maybe she left him and he is now thinking where did he go wrong, and the moment when she told him that she’s leaving him. Or he could have been thinking about the nights when they were having time of their lives. ”What is his profession?” was one of the questions I asked myself. Maybe he’s a lawyer or a doctor? He is quite chubby and by his features I would say he is a wealthy man. By the way he was dressed I would say that he lives in that neighborhood. Maybe he is a professor on a university? Or an owner of a company? He could be an investor as well. But, maybe he’s non of those things, maybe he is just a retired man from his job as a salesman or a cook? Maybe he was wealthy enough so he didn’t have to do anything? But he spent it all so he was recalling back the old times and thinking what he could have done to prevent that. By the sweatpants he was wearing I would say he is not as wealthy as he was, or he just pulled them out of the closet. They were quite worn out. I’d say he’s 63 years old, retired not long ago as a lawyer or a doctor, you name it. The cafe is dark and wooden. He was sitting in the middle of it, alone in the room. All other guests were sitting outside. Behind him is a gallery with two tables and a bar bellow it. The cafe was open, all of the windows were opened so you have a feeling that you are not in a closed room. He was looking outside, on a small street, pavement where the tables were set and, across the street, at one of the biggest parks in the city, where children were playing and dogs were running. Trees were making a shadow here and there and cars were parked in the small street. He had black shoes on, black sweats with white stripes on sides and a shirt. When I took the last glance of him he was still sitting at the same position, looking at the same spot through his glasses.