Tuesday 24 June 2008
[::] The summer sun is beaming on café tables from the west, giving the orange of those small flowers that I put on the table this morning a brighter tinge. These windows are so expansive. When there are no customers I peak a look at the houses on the other side of this window with their red, tin roofs. I must change the soil in the flowerpots.
Saturday 2 August
[::] Today I bought glasses for our fruit drinks. When I hear footsteps on the stairs, it means that a customer is coming. I turn the volume up a tinge. Endless Visions is ideal for the morning. Our customer asks what do you have, and I respond: "What does your heart desire?"
First Day of Autumn
[::] I am going home. It is raining. My hands smell of lemon.
Wednesday 22 October
[::] The autumn breeze is heedless outside the large window of the café. I look at the ceiling fan and think that this fan should never stop from going round. Customers warm themselves with our special tea and coffee. I shouldn't forget adding the lentil soup to our menu.
Thursday 22 January
[::] It is late at night. The wet footprints of our customers haven't dried on the floor of the café. The same with their cups. And, the sound of their conversations. Amir-Hossein is singing away in the kitchen. All our customers are gone. I am doing the books. It is snowing outside. Someone has left a scarf behind. Perhaps, ten years from now, an old man would come to the café and whisper: "Excuse me, ma'am, didn't I leave a scarf behind ten years ago?" to which I would reply, "Ten years ago!" and then would go to our storage, wondering what items have been left behind in these years…. What things I am thinking of.
Sunday 8 February
[::] The sugar candy is slowly melting in the hot tea I have poured myself this morning. I truly enjoy watching the street behind the building. I do it every day. I am keeping all the orders in my head -- two, medium Turkish coffees and a walnut cake for the brown-haired man, coffee with cream for Jinoos, alcohol free beer with lime for Ramin… it's too much, I must write it down somewhere.
Saturday 7 March
[::] The café is really busy. A customer asks me before leaving: "You won't be closed during the New Year vacation, will you?" I joke: "This café will never close."
Close to the New Year
[::] I brew tea. The aroma of coffee fills the café. I have thousands of things to do. I sometimes feel like sitting on that green sofa next to the window like a customer and order a tea for myself. I will do it one of these days.
[::] Amir-Hossein hasn't come to the café for several days. I wonder where he is. He asked me last time, if we should close the café for the New Year and go somewhere. I look at the brown leather sofa in the Music Corner and tell myself, "Can't plan this far ahead."
[::] When the ceiling fans whirl, when the water comes to a boil, when I look at the white cups with their miniature flowers, when food is slowly cooking on the stove, when I hear the sound of our golden teaspoons against the cup, when I look at the faces of our customers, and when I see the faces of our staff -- Amir-Hossein, Esmaeel, Amir-Ali, Sohey -- going in between tables, trying to be friendly and warm, when I talk to Leila about the many different chores in the café, I feel alive. I feel I am in a safe place.
The Final Day of the Year
[::] I shouldn't forget buying bread for the breakfast tomorrow. Tomorrow is already another year. How soon it passed. * Entr'acte Café burned on Friday 14 November 2008.