the hot full cup of coffee in the kitchen must mean a new day. the clocks are all puzzled. so coffees signal the days.

wonder how we can get lost in paths we never even set a foot in. wonder how every small thing disturbs us. wonder how the plot is written by the second, disregarding everything and everyone.

for every sip of coffee, for every step taken, for every meter on a traffic queue, a memory or a projection, sharing tastes.

"each day is the same,
where are you going?"