Java is one of the most constant things in my life (!).
A couple of years after Java opened its doors in 1997, my first "serious" boyfriend introduced me to Java. He was a bit older than me, lived a few meters down the street, and every weekend, we would have our morning coffee there, in a space that was half the size of today's. I was 18-19 and was introduced to café-life and world-class barista art. It felt exotic, urban.
The relationship eventually came to an end, but my love for café-life and Java would endure. Except for some years abroad, I haven’t lived far from Java; where meetings are held, thoughts are pondered, ideas are mulled over, and texts like this one are written. Where morning dates with my husband are enjoyed, Gladbakst for the children is purchased, and where the manager Dina (and several others behind the counter) knows my coffee, pats my dog, and knows my (and my dog's) name. Oh, Java!
And the ex-boyfriend? We could let go of each other, but not of Java. We still see each other there, chat over coffee, sometimes we even hug; Java has a good effect on us!