Kopfkino

Audio tracks add to the reading experience.  (They are mood synced. Press play when they appear.) Setting down his book on the table, Malcolm rocked the spoon back and forth in his cup of earl grey, stirring up the contents before he took a long deep sip with closed eyes.  The shadows cast by the nearby buildings marched forth inch by inch into the little cafe tucked into Piazza di Santa Croce, 14. He shifted his little stool to face the window and sipped away at his tea. The vapours of which rose like clouds of cotton in the dying sunlight.  It bothered him to not know where everyone on the street was headed. Every pedestrian outside seemed to walk with such a sense of purpose and determination as if they would perish if their feet touched the pavement another second. Unless one stopped to notice each person’s face and gait, there was no real difference at all. Just cold pillars of such determination wandering aimlessly on the streets. One went left. Two went right. Another left