coffee used to be elite-level bougie. like, locked-behind-gilded-gates level. powdered wigs. golden cups. philosophers making eye contact for too long. Vienna cafés were basically therapy but with smoke and Freud energy.

and now? you’re here. corner seat. IKEA chair. WiFi one bar away from betrayal. soft jazz playing like it knows you're on the verge. barista already cleaned your table 3 times in 40 mins. Tourists circling. Manager scanning like a hawk with a master's in eviction vibes.

You’ve been here since… idk. Before capitalism fully collapsed. Maybe 6 hours? Maybe since art school broke you emotionally but gave you great linework. Laptop dying. You? deader. Sketchbook full. Heart emptier.

You must buy another coffee. Not for the taste. Not for the need. But because this is rent now. This is your workspace tax. Coffee is currency. Coffee is camouflage. Coffee is your shield against the “excuse me, this seat is taken?”

From kings and cardinals to freelancers with eye bags and oat milk dependency. From sacred courts to your sacred coping mechanism. ☕️ This isn’t just a drink. This is ritual. This is performance art. This is survival.

✨Art is born here. But also anxiety and lactose alternatives.✨