M Train - Patti Smith

This cafe reminds me of mornings in Paris. I can't believe that's a thing in my life already. I do remember the smell of the sunrise and the traffic mixed together in the air while I drank coffee on a table on the side walk facing the street.
There are many cafes that look like the Parisian ones but very few feel indeed like them. This one does. The truth is I rather be almost anywhere than here in Amsterdam, a city that just doesn't talk to me, but instead, provides the perfect silence in which deep thoughts are born. So I observe myself better than anywhere else I have ever been. I see your changes as well as a window that opens itself roughly and undeniably, killing you softly with the view it reveals. The heavy thoughts of pointless efforts through the years. This is the future you foresaw, but did you want to be here?
I hope you write again. At least about those sad evenings when you discovered that you lost yourself.
I hope you write again. Because as many things as you may lose, you could never lose me.

This is my favorite bar in Amsterdam. The only favorite spot I learned to love during this 3 months of living here. The only place I covered in scribbles and hours of reading M Trains, and lingering observations of pedestrians and bold cyclists. The trees are finally turning greener and in the mornings we hear nothings but birds and screaming cats.

So the bar... I think the candle holders are as old as the building. And the heating is so strong sometimes I can't stand seating inside. The curtains are made of red velvet and burned by cigarettes. It's dark and it smells of old wood and unnecessary heat. God I need the dive feeling... A place with a hidden soul. Small windows that release the darkness and balance the spirit of the rusty and worn dining room.
The ornaments on the wooden chairs seem worthy of a Patti Smith polaroid. The Beatles come out the speakers while the regular customers talk lively with the always-white-shirt owner in Dutch.
"Falling, yes I am falling. And she keeps calling. Me back again"
The once black and white pictures on the walls are now light brown with black stains from the candle flames.
This place has life, it has past, and it's the best runaway spot from the always impecable city of Amsterdam. I wish they never change this torn velvet curtains. 

And just like that I'm back to Blue. The spring is blooming and I don't need to rush anymore, or ask myself questions like why am I here, what have I done?

The perfection of the Universe is again evident and nourishing. 

Our love was not dragged by crisis and now we know it never will.

So wait, and learn, and move on. Life unfolds and we are here and it's alright.