Although the café was modern and casual, it carried a classy vintage feel. The walls were a comforting shade of dark blue. Elaborate white molding and eclectic pieces of art made the color fade into the general background.
(This is a space for the odd pieces of work that I no longer want to hide. All media on this page has been created by me. If this space speaks to you, welcome home. If not, no worries. I made this with love, and I want to share it with those who want it, even if that’s just me.💙)
See the artwork on the walls? All that art was made here. See that bookshelf over there? All those are books that have been written here…
One of the sitting areas also doubled as a temporary stage. The first time I saw Kami, she was standing there playing a mellow coffee shop song on her guitar and singing into an old style microphone. You know which one I’m talking about, the one molded out of metal.🎙️
I sat at a table that was in clear view of the makeshift stage. She stepped away from the microphone and held on tightly to her guitar as you came on stage and whispered into her ear.
At first, I didn’t pay much attention to you. You were wearing a dark blue apron over a white collared shirt—you looked like another employee. Then I remembered that you weren’t the girl I saw working behind the counter.
You tucked your shoulder length black hair behind one of your ears. Your golden eyes sparkled as you smiled at us. I think it’s interesting how you have a thing for unusual contact lenses. Then gripping the microphone even tighter, with your neon yellow and black nails clashing against the silver, you began to sing.
I have to say Amelie, you’re not a real singer. Still, you have so much energy and honesty when you’re in front of everyone; I want to believe that you are.
The moment I saw you singing, I wished I could live as truthfully as you. I wanted to slip into your cocoa brown skin and live as you for awhile. I wanted to escape the glass vault I was trapped in.