Coffee-powered musings of a Romanian living in London

Updated: Feb 24, 2020

Flat white

Lucky you.

Have no idea how to climb mountains, yet

do it anyway.

Smooth rising caused by the kindness of strangers. Some of us are still grounded,

weighted down inconsolably

by our random encounters with demons and

embarrassing dreams and being second fiddle to

people like you. You, who use smiles as currencies,

you rely on people like us.

We're those people who read about mountain climbing until

we are full to the brim with knowledge

and could name every and each one

and yet

we've never even tried one pair of boots.

And so we impart our knowledge

and share advice to your lot.

It’s only when we’re kind to you

When you stray away

That we feel powerful

Like we own

A little fragile part of you

That small nugget you always pretend you don’t have.

Espresso Macchiato

There is no safety in numbers. We can keep count of each other, over and over, keeping tabs,

We'll still end up outnumbered. We can keep measuring the years between us, keeping track of every wastage,

We'll still run out of time.

We can add weight to our disappointment, keeping still in face of loss,

It'll still be a negative number. You can't win in this type of math. Not even when the numbers add up.

Flat white

I was lost.

I am not found.

There is no warning sign preceding me,

people dive right in,

accidents waiting to happen,

complete traumas unseen to the naked eye,

to the untrained heart.

I was lost,

I still am.

No search party for me in the big city,

no one screaming out my name -

they can't even spell it most of the times.

I came here to find


and everyone else.

I found amazing places to have coffees,

dingy little pubs,

restaurants serving smiles and heartache

and nothing much, so far. We're all so lost,

thank goodness we can still tell jokes to one another.

Drop me a line. Will get back to you after I've had my coffee.