Obsessed with black coffee

I don't know when I began to fall in love with coffee, especially the pure bitter coffee, which is original, thick and sticky, steaming with a seductive atmosphere.

It has been said that a cup of coffee refined over the years has both its bitterness and its mellow flavor.

The original coffee without sugar has a strong bitter taste, a faint mellow taste and a faint aroma. Taste carefully, let these tastes reverie or miss, let these flavors blend into the cup and permeate each other in the heart.

Life, there is always a lot of helplessness, everything can not go well, always leave a little regret, accompanied by less or more loneliness. A good mood will become the most basic motivation to do things; a bad mood can only be vented in a variety of ways.

Some people will smoke, alone watching the light gray confused aperture rising, circle after circle, gradually dispersed, as if scattered with their own troubles.

Some people will drink, one drink is not enough, one bottle will be served again. Full of irritability, and alcohol into the hard to swallow, anesthetized their own thinking, but still can not put aside the pain before piercing the intestines.

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And I, after being numb to alcohol, fell in love with coffee and liked to sit quietly with a cup of steaming bitter coffee. Looking at the changing space outside the window, any thoughts flying over time and space, stepping on the remaining memories in the vastness to find the lost happy time, I was confused for a while. Am I not happy? Why did it come about? The trivial affairs of the world have numbed the feeling of happiness? No one can help themselves to create real happiness, and no one can help themselves out of the depths of the doldrums. It is not so much that the world changes as the heart changes. The heat is still rising slowly, but it has not changed the deep brown, nor will it weaken the thick purity. Pick up a small spoon and stir it gently, hoping to change its calmness and stir out happy molecules in this faint season. Pick up the cup, put it on your lips, sip it gently, swallow it slowly, and let the bitter taste go down your throat and slowly soak into your heart and spleen. Is it bitter? There are some, a touch of bitterness, still entangled repeatedly in the mouth, but thoughts floated far away with the drifting eyes.

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A leaf falls and knows autumn, and all the signs outside the window have announced to me that autumn is coming for a bumper harvest. In the crisp autumn, I saw the fluttering of the residual leaves on the branches; in the fruitful fruits, I heard the wailing of lonely geese flying south; in the fragrance of cinnamon, I clearly smelled the sour in the city; under the numb smile, I could not hide the lonely state of mind, and the hasty footsteps could not hide the heavy helplessness behind me. Although autumn is the season of harvest, it also hides indescribable desolation.

In the face of a lot of reality of helplessness, always longing for their own insipid life, but insipid is really the best state of life? When the insipid kind of tasteless quietly come, can taste that pain more clearly, only then, have to admit that they are just ordinary mortals.

Perhaps, only when drinking the original bitter coffee, can we taste the other flavors of life and cherish the dullness of life more. So when the law time inadvertently quietly changed everything, I also inadvertently learned to drink coffee, slowly to taste the original bitter coffee, in the bitter slowly to taste the fragrance, in the aftertaste to distinguish the current taste of life.