Two kind friends appointed themselves my personal tour guides during my three day whirlwind through Taipei and took me to one of the oldest coffee establishments in the city.
Anyhow, while the storefront and cafe impressed me, they did not arrest my eyes. The place simply soothed with the warm colours flavoured with a yellow from decades ago, syphon coffee flasks dangling on the countertops of a bar that reminisced of a classical Jazz age, various elderly patrons chatting away the afternoon. What arrested my eye, arrested my amusement, was another patron, the one behind me napping away in the corner, oblivious to the humdrum of the place, in his own little bubble. He woke up just as I began taking photos, as if aware he had been spotted.
And the other patron whom arrested my eye was not amusing. She reminds me of something that is either shamefully neglected, or obnoxiously glorified. She arrested desire.
