One day.

Walking Paper

One day I want to own my own coffee bungalow. Quaint and chic, but with a little bit of the hippie my mother instilled in me. There will be something for everyone. A bohemian feel within a modern, wired techie cyberfusion.

No yuppies allowed. Show your i-am-willing-to-speak-up-for-myself card at the door.

I will of course have the best baristas and bakers on staff. For the afternoon hours, chefs and line cooks alike. Poetry readings, book signings and local artist showings. More imporantly, there will be conversations and discussions. The content of the discourse will span political, social and world wide issues.

In my coffee bungalow, change will happen. More and more people will flock to my nirvana, hoping to become part of the change. I want to offer a place for intellectuals, farmers, brokers, carpenters and CEOs - every class, every profession, every race - to come together in an old town hall style, to really talk things through, look for plausible solutions, be proactive.

And once my little place is on the map, I will leave it in worthy hands and travel the world, bringing my little shop of get-off-your-ass-and-make-a-difference to every small town, every tiny village, every metropolitan giant, in the hopes of widening my call to action. 

One day, in my coffee bungalow people will reconnect as part of the human race.