The Library and Chai

Yesterday was a most precious day.

My bi-cycle is still in disrepair, so I walked to the downtown library, poured some of my homemade chai tea out of my thermos and into my handmade ceramic mug, and found my usual 3rd floor seat; residing near the literature section and overlooking the indescribable beauty that is Minneapolis.

As I took my first sip, I focused my attention to each and every tastebud, as the balmy aqueous beverage flowed across my tongue; bringing about memories of friends long past and stories once told. Every gulp washing the rushing waters across my palate, splashing against my cheeks and, suddenly, disappearing forever down the gullet of the muse. I had never felt as in tune with the Mississippi river as I did then.

Next, I let the sun wash over me; though, through the human erected, and beaurocratically approved window. Its' rays still invigorated my soul and renewed my lust for life. The hushed murmur of the fellow bibliophiles that frequent this urbane sanctuary of the enlightened also brought me solice. I knew I was no longer alone.

In todays modern world, where the rickshaw is out of fashion, and automobile racing is a national "sport," a humble sophisticate such as myself can feel marooned in a time period where idiocy is cool. Well, when surrounded by the likes of Voltaire, Sartre, and Tolstoy, one tends to realize he is in proper company.