I am the walrus.

I've always described black coffee as tasting like walrus feet. Now, I've never actually encountered a walrus, but books and depression have broadened my imagination's ability, and so, I transcend reality; I see things you would never see, and know things you will never know. And although I've never had the pleasure of a walrus's company, my vivid imagination tells me that should I ever, in fact, meet a walrus and by some curious chain of events, bite into his or her flesh, the taste would be reminiscent of a freshly brewed cup of coffee.

And yet, here I stand, morning after morning, and when occasionally the seasons alter my sleeping schedule and render me nocturnal, night after night, watching, with the unbearable spasm of an addict, as the ever luminous espresso machine pours its tears into my blue Peter Pan cup, offering me the satisfaction of the walrus I'll never meet.

Happy Friday Folks!