Sundays have to be the best day of the week. There is just something about Sunday, that has a carefree feel to it. There is no sense of hurry or pressure...it just flows like a quiet stream. Partitioned time just given to do as you will with it. Sundays are the fresh breath of air. That is how I feel about Sundays, however as I got into a taxi, I met the most anxious driver ever. I showed him my destination and a put out feeling absorbed the atmosphere. I saw him gesture to his red analogue clock and suddenly he let out a huge sigh and we set off on a series of long and winding backstreets. I distracted myself by retrieving my camera. I might as well take some shots like a tourist if I found something interesting in the background.
It was his job, but he hated driving with a passion at that moment as we narrowly avoided two accidents (and me, not wearing that blessed
seat belt) to arrive at literary mecca,
Kyobo Bookstore in downtown
Daegu.
There is more than the English language section that I come for. It is here that I feel at one with the
espresso, the universal language of cafe, and their amazing wine selection. Yes, wine and
espresso and literature. The perfect Sunday. Today, just the works of a few missed writers and the detoxification of the taxi ride as I swam in the layers of my coffee.
It felt wonderful to be a literate person again just molded to a chair and wondering if I should have picked up a few more books.
You would not have known this was late October. The leaves are finally turning, with no hint of a chill in the air. The kind of day that begged to be in a
convertible with the top down and the wind blowing in your hair...carefree. Those moments that hug you when you replay them in your mind.
As I look up I smile...and remember why I love Sundays so damn much.
Sundays have to be the best day of the week. There is just something about Sunday, that has a carefree feel to it. There is no sense of hurry or pressure...it just flows like a quiet stream. Partitioned time just given to do as you will with it. Sundays are the fresh breath of air. That is how I feel about Sundays, however as I got into a taxi, I met the most anxious driver ever. I showed him my destination and a put out feeling absorbed the atmosphere. I saw him gesture to his red analogue clock and suddenly he let out a huge sigh and we set off on a series of long and winding backstreets. I distracted myself by retrieving my camera. I might as well take some shots like a tourist if I found something interesting in the background. 
There is more than the English language section that I come for. It is here that I feel at one with the espresso, the universal language of cafe, and their amazing wine selection. Yes, wine and espresso and literature. The perfect Sunday. Today, just the works of a few missed writers and the detoxification of the taxi ride as I swam in the layers of my coffee.
It felt wonderful to be a literate person again just molded to a chair and wondering if I should have picked up a few more books.
You would not have known this was late October. The leaves are finally turning, with no hint of a chill in the air. The kind of day that begged to be in a convertible with the top down and the wind blowing in your hair...carefree. Those moments that hug you when you replay them in your mind.
As I look up I smile...and remember why I love Sundays so damn much.
2 comments:
Thank you! It is like having a little Sunday relax just reading it!
You're welcome E...
It's the small moments we should notice more...
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