You’d probably think I was out of my mind for Writing personal journals about my inner workings before slamming out an informative essay, or even reading a textbook before fashioning a fantasy world on paper, but the fact of the matter is that English is the only way I know how to prepare myself for writing.

To clear my mind of worldly distractions, I’d run Tom Kenyon through my headphones while seated at a small coffee shop just outside campus and let myself go.  When finished mending the rifts in my head, my ears would shift to the uplifting jazz whispering to me.

    Ah, yes, Caffe Promenade.

From your cute pastry Wifi passwords to your swiveling office chairs, everything about you set the mood for the roughest of drafts. Murals of mountains, mosaics made of pebbles, and a hallway filled with patron sharpie graffiti left a lasting homely feeling within me; a feeling I desperately need. Every day your atmosphere was thick with aromas from the freshly baked sweets.

Together, we’d watch the sunset, but our time wasn’t endless. You close at 9PM. We both knew I’d be back tomorrow, though, even if it’s just an hour.