Every morning, I have my organic fair-trade coffee imported from Canada and she has her thick Armenian coffee made the easy way: one spoon of coffee, one spoon of sugar and boiling water poured on top. No assembly required. Well, more specifically, no jazzve required and no need to turn on the gas stove. Simple, fast, and it does the trick. That cup of coffee, plus a cigarette, wakes her up in the morning. These small gestures indicate to me the beginning of each new day.
I’m starting to feel like these blog posts are taking the shape of chapters from Elif Shafak’s The Bastard of Istanbul: instead of pomegranates and figs, I write of water and coffee. Perhaps I’ve simply returned to the basic ingredients?