Everything is as it is supposed to be.

Sunday morning, at last. Or, in fact, almost noon, because the definition of Sunday morning is often very different from that during the week. Time somehow flows differently. So Sunday, around 11:00, people are hatching out of their homes, you can enjoy a coffee in peace at my favorite cafe. But it’s not like my neighborhood in Barcelona, where I would go out and already have a beloved café across the street. Here I have to go to the center (who would have thought). Barcelona has spoiled me terribly in many ways, not least the proximity to coffee shops, which has become a priority aspect in my life (But I ask- how far is the coffee?!).

But not about that. The city center, today the weekend outfit is in force, that is, a tracksuit, a baseball cap on the head, because after all, today is children’s day and hair unwashed. And then there’s the obligatory sunglasses, you know, the kind that cover half your face. But not that they should hide the hangover, oh no, what’s not. Not those times. Just Sunday, a day without make – up (although lately these days happen much more often), but this is a topic for separate consideration. Henna takes care of everything, it’s ok.

I got to this cafe happily, one streetcar and a little walk (jeez, I would have had two coffees already on this road!). There is a table waiting for me. Because I always have this unwritten with the Universe luck that a table and parking space will be found for me. Rush hours for me do not exist, just like that they bypass me, make me such a VIP. Oh, thank you, Miss Universe! So, I am sitting like this in this cafe on the famous Piotrkowska Street in Lodz, overlooking a beautiful Art Nouveau building (this one just happens to be restored, so no ruins scare me), at my favorite table, by the window. I’m sipping my favorite, as it turned out, Flat White (for the uninitiated – it’s double espresso and frothed milk). It became a favorite due to my pooch, who during one of our meetings, ordered it, and I tried it, and it was love from the first sip (however it sounds, don’t imagine). Coffee, of course, on almond milk, because cow’s milk, well, what can I say, I can’t tolerate. Well, but let’s not go into details. Coffee with foam, of course, because coffee without it is not, absolutely unacceptable. Coffee without foam is not life.

But ok, sipping the delicious drink of the gods like this, I sit and watch. I love it. It’s like a live show. If you have a window view, the feast is double. Because you can glimpse those who pass outside and those who sit inside. The fullness of happiness. All the tables are already taken, I said – if I came later, there would be no room for me. At least not the kind I would have dreamed of. The point of observation is important. Sometimes I find myself changing it several times if I haven’t been to a particular cafe to sit at the best point… the view. Sitting next to me is a girl about 25 years old, a gray mouse, but intelligent. This can be seen from a distance. Red hair, glasses, zero make-up. He drinks a huge latte with whipped cream. And to that a cake, a must. I would dare to make the conclusion that by the type of coffee someone drinks, you can first – make a conclusion about what mental state he is currently in, and second (but this is supposedly already proven), what kind of character he has. You can also recognize a psychopath… (but not about that in this episode). Diagnosis – latte + cramp = maybe her boyfriend dumped her? Or she his? They didn’t get along on the movement of protons in their line of reality and each went their own… Perhaps.

Opposite me, sits a boy, literally occupying 3 seats. On one sits – him and his person, on another his jacket, and on a third his backpack. The boy’s blushed, no question about it. He sits with his nose in his phone. Oho, he smiles. To himself of course, he scrolls something there. He can’ t see the world. And it’s a pity, because I can see that he drinks the same as the single girl. Perhaps their realities would merge?

I glare at the girl again. He pulls out some kind of notebook. Oho! It will be created! Something is drawing. Hopefully not me. But the choice seems to have fallen on the townhouse across the street. I try to get a sneak peek, but everything is obscured by a box of sugar sachets. They should ban it, sugar of course. Okay, I’ll stop gulping. Meanwhile, with my other eye (how not to get nystagmus?!) I glanced at a group of friends. Colors. I mean, yes, foreigners, but that’s not what I meant. That different skin color. Although that too. Colorful, artistic, cool. One of the girls also takes out a notebook of some sort and starts drawing. But not like that redhead. This one draws something, sketches as if in pencil seemingly on paper, but almost in the air. Fascinating. I watch as if mesmerized. But I can’t see anything, of course, I’m sitting too far away. I could only imagine what she was creating there. Although even my imagination couldn’t handle it. It looked a bit like she was not drawing, but conducting a café orchestra. Once a latte, once an americano. Once carrot cake. A concert of tasty wishes. It ended, and with that, the concert in my head ended.

I glance at the couple sitting across from me. More foreigners. But cool this Lodz! Such a multi-culti. The staff stares at me. It’s probably because I caught a glimpse of her earlier too. So pretty, dark eyes, hair. I used to want one too. Now I don’t. I love my fine blond hair. I think I looked at it too much. He will still accuse me of something. That’s why I usually go to cafes alone, because people-watching, is like a drug for me. Not that I know what it’s like, but I used to be addicted to sugar for sure. The very sugar they should ban. Here and there the delirium is the same.

Here, too, in a cafe setting, the words I want to convey flow down to me in some inexplicable way. One after another. It’s like a stream that can’t be interrupted. Consequently, my coffee companion or companion must be really interesting. Otherwise, forcibly, my eyes will start to fly, one way or the other, and my ears will grow to the size of Dumbo the elephant’s ears. I just start looking everywhere but at the person with me and hear all the conversations, even from the farthest corners of the cafe, but not the words, spoken by the person with whom I have an appointment.

Changing the front. I look out the window. Four aging men walk by. Laughing from ear to ear. Foreigners again. I’m betting on the UK or Ireland. Have I mentioned yet that I have some sort of nationality radar? One look and I often know what country they are from. Although I guess I specialize most in guessing Latin American countries. I return my eyes again to the boy, the one who occupies the 3rd seat. He pulled away from the phone, looked at me. Maybe he sensed my gaze on his back. He nervously tapped his fingers on the tabletop. “What would you do next?” – he probably thought. Spanish songs are flying in the background. Sometimes I still catch myself thinking that, after all, I’m in Poland, so I didn’t even realize it. The words of the song say “…hay luz que abraza con todo”-there is a light that envelops everything. This is very fitting for the present moment – like the rays of the autumn sun, which decided to come out on this October day and falls on the chair yellow as it is, enveloping with this light, this beautiful Sunday morning – noon. I drink my flat white, expose my face to the sun and feel happiness. Everything is as it is supposed to be.

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