I’m not one to go out of my way to eavesdrop on other peoples’ conversations—it does happen from time to time—but there’s something about the white noise at coffee shops that makes me feel comfortable, a part of something even when alone.
Writing in my spiral notebook, looking up to watch people walk down Jackson Street, and then turning around to get a glance at a group of people smile and then explode in laughter is what I found myself doing much of my time at Zeitgeist last week.
There was a buzz. Baristas taking orders, coffee being served, quarters making their way into the tip jar, bathroom keys jingling, people talking, life happening. Sure, I’m curious about the doings of people, their opinions, ideas, and everything else, but I’m happy just knowing that people are sharing them with each other, even if I’m not always on the receiving end.
I’m not one to go out of my way to eavesdrop on other peoples’ conversations—it does happen from time to time—but there’s something about the white noise at coffee shops that makes me feel comfortable, a part of something even when alone.
Writing in my spiral notebook, looking up to watch people walk down Jackson Street, and then turning around to get a glance at a group of people smile and then explode in laughter is what I found myself doing much of my time at Zeitgeist last week.
There was a buzz. Baristas taking orders, coffee being served, quarters making their way into the tip jar, bathroom keys jingling, people talking, life happening. Sure, I’m curious about the doings of people, their opinions, ideas, and everything else, but I’m happy just knowing that people are sharing them with each other, even if I’m not always on the receiving end.