It is more by accident then by choice that I’ve ended up in this perticular establishment. The initial idea to walk into town and have my coffee at my regular  place was cut short by the hand of somebodies god , as the heavens opened and released a substantial amount of rain, my short attire was not suited for.  So save for the prospect to drown while standing upright, or hopping into this “artefact” of a cafe, I chose the latter.

The actual bar in is cafe must have had it’s esthetical highlights somewhere inthe late seventies.
For it’s brown wood and yellowed white surfaces will without any doubt come into fashion again somewhere in 2030. Until then it bides it’s time covered by kitchlike knickknacks and last years calendar.  5 men make up the patrons of this establishment. None of them under the age of fifty, their cellphones probably only chiming in monotone ringtones. The ashtrays on the worn down tables with their tacky aluminium legs, betray this is the last outpost for the nicotine loving addicts. As they fumble their umphteenth cigarette bud into the tray they curse the government for banning smoking in bars and peer out the window.  Outside the rain falls onto wet and filthy streets, making the view as appealing as watching an old dog wretch. Far gone are the tropical tempatures of yesterday, today the weather paints the perfect backdrop of oblivion that is so present eye of the old man who beholds it.

It is like time gave up in here. It’s relentless pace having slowed down to a crawl somewhere in the eighties. Only the view outside and the attire of some of the guests make it obvious that the third millennium is ready to start puberty. Their are no computer screens, not even the digital display of a clock breaks the analogue singularity of this intriguing place.  One could imagine this cafe, moving through space at light speed, the perception of time dilated by velocities so close to the impossible. As relative time outside appears to speed up, the constant tick of the wall clock seems to slow down, lagging down the reality inside to a sigare smoked singularity.

I sit inside and revel in this unintentional authenticity. Tapping away at a device that will only be common knowledge to these people
somewhere in the latter half of the current year. I snicker because I kind off feel like a time traveler. Trapped in this pocked of the past amids the turmoils of the present.  Slowly the man across from me folds his newspaper and leaves behind an empty glass of
red wine. He swaggers tentitavely toward the exit, leaving his cash on he counter as he leaves. The bartender bids him farewell in the heavy dialect of the region. The world I know feels lightyears away in these surroundings.. But I can live with that for now.

My portable companion tries in vain to pick up a stray wifi signal to connect cyberspace. “But this,” the picture of laurel and hardy on the wall seems to speak, ” is hyperspace ! This is a temporal bubble moving at velocities faster then light, the temporal distortion transforming the present into a far flung future.”  Its a strange sentiment offered by a pair of comedians who sowed so much laughter in the days of black and white.

The sansiverias, their Leaves covered with old nicotine smoke, claw at the grey sky. Their sharp ends making them resemble an alien claw that tries to grasp the fleeting clouds. At a nearby table, a middle aged couple that just walked in, share a clumsy,akward attempt at romance. The sharp shreds of their past perturbing dangerously from every word they speak, from every touch they share. They to seem to find comfort in this temporal fold in space and time. The mismatched and outdated surroundings resembling a time where they were younger and free from the scars of oblivion.

The dissipating clouds seem to trigger my recall signal into temporal reality. As the sun starts to reflect on my far to glossy touchscreen I am reminded I have some errands to attend to. With mixed emotions I prepare to leave, choosing to ignore the discrete stares from some of the guests. Yet it leaves me to wonder who is the most fascinated with whom. I vow to return to this temporal anomaly again, for I have grown fond of how it is able to slow down the fast pace of my reality and gives me time to appreciate the sansiverias.

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