I always start my day with coffee.
It is a ritual that starts the evening before I go to bed.
The desire to enjoy coffee in the morning tingles all my senses and makes me restless.
When I wake up, the floor is cold.
I breathe in the fresh air and start my journey.
My journey takes me downstairs.
I walk down two staircases to find myself becoming zen.
I am in the kitchen.
My kitchen is a sober place.
There is a stove, a fridge, a kitchen counter and a table.
I never sit at this table, it is too small.
There are no colours in my kitchen to make it less sober.
Just grey and white.
I put some water in the kettle and wait for it to boil.
While I’m waiting, I prepare the filter and cup.
I put one scoop of grinded beans in the filter.
My preference lies in beans that have a subtle taste and fruity, almost velvet-like aroma.
The water is ready.
I pour the water on the grind.
Slowly and in circles.
I repeat this three times in less than five minutes.
The coffee drips in the cup, slowly.
I walk upstairs again, but just the one staircase this time.
The first floor is less sober.
Brown, copper and dark green color the space.
The walls are white.
I drink my coffee. Slowly.
The caffeine makes me restless.