I was thinking about leaving Florence today. Not because I’m leaving it, because I would like to be there in order to be leaving…anyway. The first time I left I remember worrying about having one last cappuccino, and my sister said something about grabbing one at the airport.
I have found that I love coffee cups. Along with cappuccino’s, I adore the vessels that hold them. Sometimes, it seems, the cup is as important as the coffee itself. It gives such a simple drink a sense of pleasure. Of treating yourself to something a little special. Taking time out of this busy life. For a deep breath of a moment.
So today, I give a random nod to my collection of coffee cups. And why not? Folks far greater than myself have written odes to urns, to the morning, to roads in woods. Why not a photographic sharing of the coffee cup?