There is a shop I go to for coffee and cheese omelette when I go to this city in this country far away from here. The coffee is okay but the omelette is a piece of art. Every day I go there and every day the omelette is served to me exactly as it was the day before. Every time I eat it, I focus solely on enjoying each bite as much as I can. If I had the capacity to enjoy more, the omelette would provide. I am a not-enough vessel for the omelette-creators expression of whatever it is he/she is creating.
If you ask me where this shop is, perhaps I will tell you and maybe you will go there. But maybe you will like neither the coffee nor the omelette. And that’s life. I am glad I have a cheese omelette place waiting for me halfway across the globe.
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