Sitting in the corner, I imagine if I were an artist,
A photographer, a poet or a songwriter.
I would be inspired to create a masterpiece.
I am none of these.
It’s so inspiring here that I am all of them at once.
On any given day, I would just do crosswords at my leisurely pace,
Make up my own word games without a care in the world,
Gaze at the Heidelberg postcard and reminisce my dream days there,
Admire the bakery art of crocodile or tortoise-shaped bread,
Or watch the busy activities in and outside the café indifferently.
While my heart warms to that cup of steamy English breakfasttea,
And my palate savors the rich slice of chocolate truffle,
My fingers tap to the rhythm of Catalan music,
My eyes fleetingly glance at the TV that nobody cares to watch
My smiles direct at the almost exclusively Japanese staff
Café de France, or Café du Japon, if you want,
It brings the world together,
And once the magic in that fragrant brew and alluring dessert kick in,
I am out of this world,
In paradise on Hornby.