Monday, 18 June 2012

Coffee Debris Reverie

In the smile of a coffee pot you can see this little grill intended to trap the grounds that escape the filter’s gauzy swallow. You depress the detonator plunger and set the coffee into swirling motion. Something in the movement of the brackish liquid puts you in mind of the water travelling through the sluice gates near the city park. The silver ropes of water twisting through the greenish surface and the brutal sluice gates; cast iron sheets painted guillotine red like leftovers from the old execution revolution days in their red-oxide paint carried through time to this water. But like the grill in the coffee pot, they can’t quite stop everything. There is always some kind of debris.

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