Secret Agent Starbucks

Due to my ongoing financial odyssey, I don’t have Internet access, yet I’m drafting this article in a chill air conditioned Starbucks, a hot cup of overpriced coffee next to my comfy leather chair, accompanied by some kind of Ibiza discotheque inspired music oonts-oontsing away in the background.

It’s ironic that I can be lounging in the lap of first world luxury while living below the poverty line. I’m getting by on luck, charity, and serendipity, which isn’t to say it hasn’t been agonizing at times.

The Starbucks is empty, which makes me think I’m a secret agent sitting in a Shanghai VIP lounge, contemplating the telltale signs of a financial upswing on the horizon. Perhaps someday I’ll write about the beautiful view of the ocean I have from the window of my beach house.



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Artist | Writer | Musician

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