Café Bouquiniste

One Flat White and a Soy Flat White, please. We sat down in this café, around the corner, down the street, away from the shops, just before the clouds got closer together and it started raining. Inside, it smelled of coffee and soap. Books were hidden everywhere, on the shelve, behind the soap, up the ladder and behind some flowers; we got Giovanni Arpinos Scent of a Woman. Turned the pages, had a sip of our Flat Whites and listened to that deep voice of Bill Callahan that filled Café Bouquiniste. A wonderful cloudy afternoon.


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