Just a little snippet of me trying to explain the definition of the word “euphoria” to my flatmates from the Philippines and Japan.
They brought up the drugs part.
I’m always on the hunt for a place to study that isn’t a library or my room. A library can be a bit clinical, and my room has the constant option of a dance party. Also, as a recovered insomniac I find that it’s better for me to reserve my room for sleeping or personal things . . . separate the academic aspect. Also, when roommate tensions were high in my final year of undergrad my best friends and I would rendezvous at the Starbucks located in our school library (I know, I know . . .). My lady best friend and I would work and my gentleman best friend would . . . watch us work and learn to like coffee.
I’m very proud to say he is now the proud owner of a french press. Another one bites the dust.
So I have a nostalgic fondness for cafes, but hadn’t found one near my flat that I could really buckle down and work in. Until Sunday night. On the recommendation of my flatmate, I took my school books and trekked up to the Euphorium bakery in Angel. And I was in heaven. A cup of tea. A raisin scone (really tasty).
A LEATHER CLUB CHAIR THAT SURROUNDED MY BODY AND CREATED A CONE OF SOLITUDE
Bowler-hat lights, book wallpaper, tufted leather couches. My favorite quote painted on the brick (defunct, unfortunately) fireplace.
If it had electrical outlets it would be perfection. The perfect place to study, open til 10 pm, every night.