Each time I drink a cup of freshly brewed coffee, its scent brings back memories of a small bookstore where I spent countless afternoons of my youth. Wooden shelves, lined with books, each a world waiting to be explored. After school, together with my dear friend, we would go to a nearby coffeehouse, grab a couple of steaming beverages and velvety praline chocolates or fresh-made caramel pastries. Time seemed to slow as we nestled into comfortable chairs, casually chatting and discussing our latest literary discoveries.

1996