I luv this piece so much,I wrote it in my Grandfather’s voice.
The freshly brewed coffee was poured into the cup.
A daily ritual’s aroma was mingled with freshly baked bread, dipped into the black sea of sweetened coffee. Bread drenched with this morning’s goodness, made its way to the anticipating lips. A scene that played out every day, of every year.
Coffee beans hand picked, roasted then roughly ground, held its own uniqueness. The beans were sticky with an almost burnt aroma, their darkness always produced the same flavors.
The coolness of the day gave way to the sun’s warmth. In this land, regions were shaped by the weather, to include its landscape as part of the temperate zones. These regions decided, as a natural selection process, what areas were best for growing which crops; as nature so often does.
The richest harvest was best suited for those regions where rain settled on the coffee plant’s leaves, on a timely…
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