A bit about writing fatigue

Writing fatigue, for me, is intervening once you discover that your words are getting out of your fingers in a very automatic way. You do not stay too much to think about what you want to say and how to find the proper words. The ideas could be stronger than y0ur love for clarity. And words are flowing. Probably, some people for whom writing is difficult could envy such a situation. In my case, I was nothing more than a robot of words.

Writing fatigue is when you are overusing the words. A kind of verbal bulimia. You do not care about what do you say, it is important to utter words.

Writing fatigue is too when I cry for a break. When I need to see new places and people just to make me thing about the difference and the diversity.

But, now, it is over - the second one in my life. And, will try to make this blog maybe more alive and original. No more not adnotated links. And more about seeing and thinking sometimes different, sometimes against.

Coffee diplomacy

In the Middle East, coffee is part of the tradition. Various methods and bones and tastes. Another issue is the humus, but we will not write now about this. So, back to the coffee issue. One of the common places related to the area is concerning the tradition of the coffee houses, as social places, and matters of concern for the political power. But, here, again, we hope to have the occasion to focus more in another post.

And now, time to start my small story.

I was in Tel Aviv, chit-chating with a friend of mine about weather, sun and...suddenly, coffee. I was explaining my addicted love to coffee.

"How do you drink the coffee?", he asked me. And explained: two full spoons of coffee, and then I am pouring the boiled water. And? he continued. And, I am waiting a bit and I am ready to enjoy my huge mug for hours. And then, to make another one. "Do you put milk?", another question sprung. "No, I do not, never", I answered, "because I like to feel the real taste and to enjoy it. The milk could diminish it", I continued, very proud of my strong character. "So, no milk?", he answered again, as upon this answer it was relying the whole idea about me. "No, no milk", replied, a bit bored about this apparently going-nowhere q and a session.

"Hmm, you know, here, only the Arabs are drinking the coffee without milk", he added, ending the topic in a bit of surprise from my side.

In fact, as the story is pretty fresh, haven't time enough to test the truth of my friends remark. True or not, it is could offer a hint, about how coffee could became an identity marker.