Enjoying a cup of Nicaraguan coffee from Café Las Flores, made with my new french press. It brings me back to my visit in January of last year. Touring the coffee plantation on the Mombacho volcano, and then hiking further up into the clouds. Something so simple combines both my love for coffee, and my second home. It also helps get through calculus.
A dusty bookshelf, heirloom trinkets, gifted artworks, a grey cat at the window, plants, and grandpa’s guitar.
We’re not supposed to judge poor people for getting the tiny amounts of joy they can out of life such as splurging on a $5 Starbucks coffee, and rightly so, but when I, a poor person, splurge on a $5 box of Gardein porkless pockets maybe once a month at the most suddenly it’s “Wow, veganism is so expensive. If you think poor people can be vegan you’re an asshole.”
Our society thinks poor people aren’t allowed to have comfort or ethics, and it’s wearing me the fuck down…
