28.03.26

The cafe sits across from the building that housed the tofu factory that closed thirty years ago. While much has changed there is a lot that remains the same. Like the caryatids standing unburdened in the faux portico. Or the aftertaste of the sauce spread across the focaccia baked next door only a day old. And the pawn broker whose grilled windows separate the sticky fingers from the cordless drills. After forty years of sitting here lies a wealth.