Bullets With My Coffee

 

The walls have rainbows and unicorns prance across the penny plastered floors. A flower floats in my spiced Mexican mocha.  Outside, bright colors slash the graffitied buildings as rainbow flags flutter from broken windows.  Eclectic escapism in a world teetering on the cliff edge.

I breath in aromas and scenarios. I breath out words. Secluded in my corner, people don't see me. I watch them. Each a variegated bubble unto themselves. At the register, momentary encounters between passing worlds. Bumping uncomfortably. Mask muffled again.  Coffee is the brief connector.

We need magical unicorns. The Delta variant pandemic is crushing us with another wave and Lambda floats in on the crest. As Lord Stark would say; "winter is coming".  Dragons are breathing fire across the world. The UN Climate Report gave humanity a Code Red as our politicians golf.  

My coffee is pretty. It tastes of the past normal. A sign on the door lists menu items no longer available due to shortages. Normal left the building weeks ago. We are all struggling with a reality to stark to bear. We need rainbows.  

Greta Thunberg is on the cover of Vogue denouncing the fashion world for "greenwashing". She voices a truth that is drowned by the sound of cash registers.  " The fashion industry is a huge contributor to the climate-and-ecological emergency".  Our global politicians and billionaires are bunging jumping into space and chasing golfballs on water greedy courses as people are made homeless by climate catastrophes.   Corporate CEO's are buying golden passports  to escape the US. They bring their destruction with them. There is no escape. We need magicians.  

From Paradise, our greed and selfishness created Hell. As the world burns from the American West Coast to the suburbs of Athens, Greece we grasp at a world that has ceased to exist.  There is no more time for the luxury of fantasy. Retribution is upon us. I stop people and ask, what is your future? What is the future of your children? If we do nothing, now, IS there a future? 

Sirens are sounding outside, people running from the side street. The crack of bullets hitting- something. Hollywood is off the screen and outside the door.  I wait. No point in leaving my corner.  I write, seeking with my words for connection.  Cassandra at the Temple watching the fall of Troy. 

I am a journalist. I have witnessed the darkest depths where evil exists and those moments of shining courageous perfection that we, as humans are capable of. I observe and breathe out the words. Journalists and journalism are under attack. Why? We are placed to write the truths we see. Uncomfortable. Stark. Revealing.  Products that are hard to "sell" in a world demanding instant coffee solutions and temporary happiness. I am a journalist. I won't sell you happiness here.  I won't sell you false, instant solutions.  I Will show you uncomfortable truths and offer you the choice to make a difference now, for our disappearing future.   There is no more time left. We don't need broken shop windows or self-serving political dividers grasping for the mirage of power. The unicorns are gone. Winter is here. 

Spring will come again. Flowers will blossom with the warmth of sunshine. It's a new world. Let's make it a better one. For everyone. Together, we can.