Punchy Matcha

The venue was heaving. It was a windy Sunday morning, a group of customers just stood like statues, obviously hungover waiting for coffees. They didn’t even pass time looking at the books and magazines, or even the passes by. These drained customers just stared into space, or alternatively at the polished parquet floor.

One by one they were handed their paper cups on a small metal tray, they then paid and left, silently, with luck the…

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Paul N

Paul N

All about dreams, and the unlocked emotional brain.