To ward off boredom and ensure that this blog does not go unupdated, I will post a story, perhaps followed by other stories. Think of them as encapsulated dreams; they are abstract, dramatic, more than a little unreal and not exactly clear.
It begins on an airplane or a car, maybe on a train, as I travel to New York City with some clothes in a backpack and little else. I will arrive in the early morning to begin my quest; I’ve set out to find Duane Sorenson, founder and owner of Stumptown Coffee Roasters. No, the bus is actually taking me to a small coffee plantation in Panama, where a large family prepares to harvest a particularly large crop of berries. As I approach their house, illuminated by the sunrise and shimmering from the moisture in the air, a man I assume to be the father steps out of the house. He’s thin and wiry and wearing a faded blue t-shirt. I will spend the next six months there, helping with the harvest and learning Spanish, returning to the States to open a small roastery and coffee shop in one of the larger cities on the West coast.
Post a Comment